this is my dull life. this is my dull life on drugs. this is a haiku.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Ridiculous bear analogies prevail yet again

So I'm in the library studying some Psych, and I come across this pretty little fact in the textbook:

"For every self-defense use of a gun in the home, there are 4 unintentional shootings, 7 criminal assaults or homicides, and 11 attempted or completed suicides."

So I'm thinking, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH AMERICA THAT THEY CAN'T JUST OUTLAW THIS SHIT??? How can a tradition penned centuries ago by some dudes who didn't have any concept of social theory, still be upheld so vehemently today?

Trying to see it from another's perspective, I imagined a possible retort to the presentation of this fact. It might go something like this: "The solution is not to ban guns, but to introduce legislation and fund programs that will help control their misuse."

So in light of this imagined arguement, I present this simple analogy:
You've got a hypothetical playpen full of babies who are playing with lego, and, every so often, one of them puts a piece in their mouth and chokes to death. In order to alleviate the problem, you introduce a bear, highly trained in the art of CPR, into the playpen. Now, every so often, the bear will properly carry out his intended task, resulting in one rescued baby. The problem is that the vast majority of the time, the bear simply mauls and eats the children.

So how in the name of God do you solve this perplexing problem? REMOVE THE BABY-EATING BEAR FROM THE PLAYPEN!! Take the fucking bear OUT! Don't send the bear for more training, don't introduce more bears, don't ask for all bears to be registered at the CPR-bear registration bureau, just REMOVE THE BEARS FROM THE EQUATION! BEARS AND BABIES SHOULD NOT CO-EXIST. The dangerous solution makes for a more dangerous playpen for all babies, despite the minor problem that initially existed. So give the trained bears to the police, to handle the REAL problems. Or professional hunters... to... hunt ducks and... albatross...

...OK. So I must admit -- this is where the analogy starts to break down, but you get the jist of it. Guns = bad

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

My take on several doomsday scenarios

Everyone seems to be terrified of nuclear war, but I believe that there's an upside to a nuclear holocaust. What possible upside, you ask? Well -- If science has taught me anything, it's that Earth will simply absorb all the energy directed toward it, and will be instantaneously promoted to a higher orbit, most likely outside of Saturn's. Also, if I understand correctly, this orbit will be much more exciting than our previous orbit, and will undoubtedly involve many parties and a large excess of beautiful women.

If you don't get why all this is true, then bone up on your physics.

Speaking of end-of-the-world scenarios, last semester, Craig and I were talking about alternate strategies for dealing with earth-bound asteroids. The whole send-a-rocket-to-blow-it-to-smithereens thing is way too overplayed, bu I've got a better idea, and it's simple...


Yeah, that's right: Hamburgers. How does this solve the problem of a massive rock hurtling toward us at unspeakable speeds? Well, simple -- The current world population is about 6.5 billion, so it's safe to assume that it will be 8 billion by the time this plan would come into action. So that means, at any time, half the population (4 billion) would have a line of sight with any approaching interstellar object. All we'd have to do is organize it so that everybody on one side of the Earth -- the side facing the world-obliterated asteroid -- had a hamburger. Everyone would wait until just the right moment, and then some dude from NASA would yell "NOW!", and everyone would throw their hamburgers into the air at the same time. The 4 billion hamburgers, each weighing about a quarter pound, would make for one billion pounds of minced meat hurtling towards said asteroid. I mean -- I don't have time to work out the calculations, but that is a lot of freaking meat. I'm sure it would deflect an asteroid...

But hey -- If it didn't, then we could simply fall back on the alternate plan, which would involve a few people throwing spices and seasoning into the air. These would combine with the hamburger and intense heat before falling back down to Earth, where we would all enjoy delicious tacos in the moments before we were purged from existence.

Saturday, December 16, 2006

Old Blog Repost Series - #1

I had another anonymous blog over the summer, but have just decided to transfer some of the old posts over when I've got nothing else to write about. Sorry if you've already read this...

------ Originally posted August 1st, 2006 -----

So I ran out of gas today...

Yeah -- I know, I know... lame. I know exactly what you're thinking: "Who runs out of gas??? Are you a monkey? Because only a monkey wouldn't realize he was out of gas. No, on second thought, even a monkey would realize that, so you must be something less. Perhaps you are an inanimate object, such as a piece of chalk. Yes -- you are likely a piece of chalk, which would certainly have no concept of a gas tank, nor the degree to which it was filled, yet you have somehow unlocked the secrets of the internet and discovered blogging."

Well, before you get all preposterous on me, I have an excuse. My van is a piece of shit. It must have some type of loose wire somewhere, because the console dials turn on and off. They'll work just fine for a long while, but then everything will just shut off for weeks at a time. I'm talking speed, gear, gas guage, odometer, etc. Though I can live without knowing the core temperature and RPM of my 1998 Caravan, gas and speed seem to be pretty integral to the whole driving experience.

But I'm not completely in the dark, since I've figured out how to manage speed, at least on the highways. Y'see, my van is a rocket. Sadly, I don't mean "rocket" in the sweet-vehicle-that-gets-me-chicks way. I mean that, at 130 kmph, everything in my van starts vibrating and shaking and groaning. I'm talking serious rumbling, as in -- Prepare-for-re-entry rumbling. So the strategy for going the 120-kmph limit is to take my van up to vibration-speed, then reel it in a notch. I like to think that this is how my anscestors used to drive... I feel so cave-man.

So the speed problem is solved, at least for major throughfares, but that still leaves gas to chance, prayer, and (at least in the end) the angle of my van. Which leads me to today, I was cruising through the city, and then -- just BLAM -- car starts stuttering and stalling. I'd just passed a gas station a minute ago, so (being naively optimistic), I tried to pull a no-gas U-turn on a busy road. Taking it wide, I rolled up onto the sidewalk, where this dude -- the nerve of him! -- was just strolling leisurely down the sidewalk as if he owned the place. His back was to me and he was blabbing on his cell phone, completely oblivious to the minivan on his heels.

So I honked. Given his road-side location, I guess he was pretty surprised to see me. I then succintly explained that I was out of gas and needed to conserve, so as to make it to the next service station ("MOVE! NO GAS! NEED EVERY DROP!" out the window as I rolled past). So I got turned around, but since the gas station was up a hill, I didn't get far. At the very least, I learned that gas needs to be at the front of the tank in order to be useful for locomotion. The line behind me was a about a dozen cars long before I deciding that this was no way to get gas into my poor van. So I coasted into a parking lot and left it in the open, not even having enough to make it to a parking space.

From here, I just booted it up to the Irving, where the cashier watched, perplexed, as I inspected the beverages, bought a 2L jug of water, walked outside, and dumped it out. I then filled it up with gas, paid, and ran back down the street. If you live in Saint John and happened to see some dude tearing down the street with what looked to be a large bottle of urine, then that was probably me. Once I got to the van, I realized something. Since recessed gas tanks aren't designed to accept liquid from a generic-brand water bottle, I could only get about $2 of the $3 worth of gas into the tank. And that was only with me thrusting the nozzle of the bottle into the gas openning with great velocity, in an effort to get the last little bits in. Needless to say, gas covered the side of my van and the ground in the immediate vicinity. I guess I can't complain though, since it was enough to get me to the next gas station.

So why didn't we have my van fixed ages ago? Well we've tried, but as I said, the problem is on-again-off-again. What happens is this: We book an appointment with the car dude, but by the time we get it in, the symptoms are gone. The car guy could never find anything wrong, so after 3 or 4 visits, he probably thinks that we're a family of vehicular hypochondriacs.

So... yeah... the end.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Best song EVER

OK, so apparently they're old news in the indie music blogosphere, but I've just started listening to them, and they are fantastic. Who am I talking about? The band "Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin", that's who!

Take a listen to "I Am Warm and Powerful" if you want to know what I'm talking about. And don't be a douche who sits through only half the song, cause the changes in time that kick in halfway through are part of what makes it so awesome.

Anyway, here's the link!

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Let's play a game.

OK, here's how it works -- Guess what makes this sound:


Can you figure it out? No? It's the sound of me spitting toothpaste all over my glasses, which have just fallen off of my face into the sink.

Go me.

But only one exam left! I'm just heading to bed for the day, and should be up by 8pm to start studying again...

Saturday, December 09, 2006


So it's Friday night, and my thesis introduction still isn't done. What's more, I don't even have anything written past the outline. All I've got is what Coleman and Craig came in and wrote while I was gone:

Atagcgata Pats thesis is the best thing a monkey ever puked into a pile of


hello there young skywalker this is dr doom from the fantastic 4. I have been waiting a long time to talk to you mr CAGTAGCTGATCGA and now we must dual.
Choose your word that stats with H and
I don’t remember the rest.

I choose sword.

Ok H word goes first.
And he hits and takes 47 hp off of doom.

Doom then uses his electric sword to take off 87 hp and H WORD DIES NOOOOOO
ok dr doom rules


Man -- I'm fucked.

Thursday, December 07, 2006


I realize that I haven't posted in forever, but I'll just jump back in like nothing happened. Hopefully I'll do some catch-up stuff later, for all those folks at home and abroad who may or may not stumble upon this site again.

As for right now, I've got some good news and I've got some bad news.
The bad: I'm scrambling to get my honours thesis done for tomorrow. Then I have to start studying for my exams.

The good: I've invented a new drink.
Just buy a 600 mL Coke -- Or wait... Ahem. I mean 591 mL Coke. Fuckin corporate commie bastards weaseling me out of 9 mL of delicous beverage...

So take the bottle of Coke, and drink half. Then go to Tim Horton's (or your preferred local conglomerated pseudo-cafe) and buy a small coffee. Pour into the remnants of your Coke, and -- VOILA -- Coca-Coffee!

Not the finest of inventions, but what can I say... Tastes like ass but helps me pass.