Celerbation

Today, I am going to celebrate my 10th anniversary of something I like to do. I am not sure if it is exactly 10 years since I first started doing this, but since I have nothing else to celebrate on November 16, today will be the day.

When I first started, like any kid of that age, I wasn't quite sure what to do. I watched other people do it a bit, but I think they generally didn't like that. I tried to learn what I could from some books and magazines, but in this fluid activity you can only learn so much with still images. As I kept at it, though, I began to improve - leaps and bounds at first, before slight gains, and then no improvement at all for a while.

With the exception of a few dry spells here and there, I have been doing it pretty steadily since I first began. Sometimes I would be out in the field with the army for a week and unable to do it, but I always tried to make up for it when I got back.

I have had a few regular partners, a couple for a few months and even one for over a year. I have had some partners only once, too. For the most part, though, I have been doing it solo-style ever since the beginning.

Fridays are never a good bet for it. I usually drink way too much, and am totally physically incapable. I usually try to make up for that with Saturdays, though, when I have all day free.

It is healthy, it is natural, it is even a good thing to talk about at the office. I am considered a bit of an expert around here, and have even counselled others on improving its place in their life.

Wow. 10 years. That's a long time. You would really think I would be better at it by now. What is it?...







It's WORKING OUT! ...What else?

To Hang Hussein

Judging Saddam Hussein is a good opinion article from The Economist. Seeing as I agree with it, instead of trying to convince you of my position through half-complete thoughts and run-on sentences, I will direct you to that source and suggest you give it a read.

Remember

I bet they would have given anything for a girl and a beer and a warm summer night with their buddies. But instead they got death, death all around them and a headstone without a name. Their lives were given to their cause, even those who lived. If we remember what they gave us, then their sacrifices were not in vain. For one day, please...Let us remember them.

For The Fallen
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Polling

I hate polls. Where did they all come from? Why are there so many polls these days? You can't watch CNN, you can't watch Much Music, you can't even watch TSN anymore without getting the results of a poll. Seriously, yesterday there was a poll on TSN showing which Canadian team people thought had the best chance of winning the Stanley Cup this year. The poll had Calgary and Ottawa at the bottom. 5 weeks previously, the exact same poll question had Calgary and Ottawa at the top.

So why do we care what polls say? I think it was in Men In Black when Tommy Lee Jones said, "A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals and you know it."

Today I came across this poll from CBC. Look at number 6, the percentage of respondents who approve of Canada's mission in Afghanistan. Look at how it has changed. Are we skittish? Cold feet? Wary of casualties? Over-emotional after 9/11? Number 7 is not too surprising - only half of the people giving responses know why who Canada is working for over there.

Governments cannot make decisions based on opinion polls. They MUST not make decisions based on opinion polls. I am happy our government has not done so yet in this matter. We all know what Jack Layton would do about it. Then again, everyone knows he will never form the government, so he is free to say anything he likes to please his target audience.

I guess the overall message is this - research, vote, and ignore all the polls. Sure, I would give responses if they called me for a poll, but I don't know if I would even trust those answers.

Getting less fatter

A(nother) recent study from Statscan. The news? Canadians continue to get fatter...but at a slower rate. Between 2003 and 2005, men only gained an average of 0.7kg and women 0.6kg, whereas in the previous two years the numbers had been 1.1 and 1.0 respectively. Hurray!

No?

No. But I guess that is better than rates increasing. The more worrisome number actually came from a University of Rochester study that was comparing abdominal fat levels. Levels of "abdominal obesity" in 2-5 year old boys went up 84% since 1988. And even more ridiculous, it went up 126% in 18-19 year old girls.

Holy crap. There is really no excuse for that at these young ages, and it is seriously reducing any motivation I have to go hang out around high schools these days. What, too far?

Anyway, the funniest part of this whole deal was in a comment posted on the Globe and Mail article, which reads as follows:

Spicy Doc from Canada writes: So we're still getting fatter but at a slower rate?? And the Chinese are out of control?? Time for the UN to get its act together and set up a 'Bloato' Protocol. Canada and other nations must get back to 1990 weight averages or else buy 'Credits' from starving countries to comply. Naturally the US will boycott, citing huge pressure from the fatty snak lobby. China will chow through dim sum like there's no tomorrow. In Canada the libs will promise to comply, but aside from getting Rick Mercer to do a '20-lb challenge', Canada will continue to pork up. The NDP will ridicule Harper for not promising Canada will lose 20 lbs per person in 2 weeks. Rona will suggest a plan of sensible eating, combined with safe exercise, leading to a gradual but meaningful long-term improvement. The media eat her alive, screaming that she is an incompetent moron. Bloggers call for the Tories scalps (whilst chomping down Doritos and Coke). The song remains the same..,..

Stern Reports

You should check out this report on the state of the environment. Then you can read this one about how Canada is doing. The average Candian uses enough energy, consumes enough food, produces enough trash, etc, that we need 7.6 hectares to support each person. If you would like to put that in terms of an area we can better understand, try 818,056 square feet. That is the size of my house, times 800.

So yeah, World Wildlife Fund it is.

Charity Case

I work for the Government of Canada. And when one works for this government, one is made familiar with something called the Government of Canada Workplace Charitable Campaign. It is just a campaign each year in the fall where employees are encouraged to donate to a charity of their choice by payroll deduction throughout the year. We had a short presentation on this the other day, and it got me thinking - I should definitely be giving more. I didn't even come through on that promise to give my Ralphbucks to charity. So now I will be using my salary (which comes your tax dollars, of course) and redistributing to the charity that I see fit.

But...which charity to give to? There are thousands of options. There are a few basic choices on the pledge sheet - I could give to The United Way, who could redistribute it as they like. I could be more specifc, giving to The United Way specifically to fight poverty, for child and youth programs, or for victims of abuse. I could give to Healthpartners, a group including the major health associations such as The Canadian Cancer Society and The Heart & Stroke Foundation. Or I could give to any registered charity in the country.

Right now I have a sponsored child in Uganda. Maybe I should give something to stay in Canada now? Or even my local community? But I think there are places elsewhere that probably need it more. How about giving to people who do something about protecting the environment? Renewable energy? World Wildlife Fund? I don't know. There are too many choices.

It won't be much money. They won't be hiring any new scientists or building any new shelters with my donations. I just want them to mean something, though. So what do you think? Who deserves our hard-earned money?

Different Families

This letter was posted on army.ca by a Candian soldier recently wounded in Afghanistan:

Dealing with being home from Kandahar

(Oct 16, 2006)

It has been 2 month and 2 days since I deployed to Afghanistan, with 8 Platoon, Charles Company, 1 RCR. I was honored, as a reservist augmentee, to be attached to such a great group of probably the best soldiers our country has to offer.

In the three short weeks I was in Afghanistan, I learned more about commitment to my military family than most soldiers learn in a lifetime. It seemed both unfortunate and amazing that it took battle and bloodshed to forge such a strong bond.

It has been 1 month and 12 days since I was wounded and pulled from the battlefield. When I was in the hospital in KAF, I had hoped that I would stay in Afghanistan to recover. Why would I want to stay in such a horrible place that almost claimed my life? I didn't want to leave my family.

Germany and Toronto (hospitals) were a blur of Morphine, Demerol, Fentanyl, IV lines, wound packings, shrapnel removal surgeries, catheters, bad food, and good care. I think back on it and it seems dizzying. But when I close my eyes, only 2 images flash and they take me back to where I'm supposed to be.

I see Panjwayi; the fields of pot. Rockets and bullets. The smell of burning and the heat. Then all I see are the bodies of soldiers I helped carry to the CCP. 2 covered by body bags (WO. Richard Nolan, Sgt. Shane Stachnik) and 2 on stretchers; my platoon warrant (WO Frank Mellish), and a soldiers I new only casually from living in the shacks in Petawawa (Pte.Will Cushley)

While at the CCP I find out that a very close friend (from my reserve home unit) had been wounded by shrapnel from Taliban RPGs. His sections LAV had been left on the battlefield. For a long while, I didn't know how badly he was wounded. (He's still over there, thus no names) I'll never forget the feeling; the sense and fear of loss. I will never forget those who were lost that day.

I try to think of the good times I was privileged enough to have with my Platoon. WO. Mellish made me the unofficial piper of 8 Platoon, (shortly there after; Coy piper) and I played reveille as per his request (and everyone else's distain) anytime I was able. In dreams I still hear him shouting "Piper!!! Black Bear!!"... The last tune I played on my pipes... at panjwayi. (I still don't have them back)

When I close my eyes, I also see the morning after Panjwayi. Sparks, smoke, fire... then the burp of the main gun of the A-10. I remember the feeling of panic as I crawled for my Weapon and PPE, thinking we were under attack. I can still feel the burning on my legs and back, the shock of thinking my legs were gone.

I can see the faces of the injured... the twice-wounded soldiers of Charles. I see the face of the soldier who saved my life by applying tourniquets to my legs and stopping the bleeding from my back and arm... (He will remain nameless for now)

From then, everything's a blur until I'm back in KAF. I remember asking if everyone was 'ok'... Reaching from my gurney to other wounded soldiers walking by, trying to peace together what had happened... more confusion. I asked again and again...

Pte. Mark Graham. An inspirational man whom I only really started to get to know shortly before deploying, a brother in our family of warriors, was dead. My heart sank even more.

Our CSM (who was also wounded) came over to me and asked if I was going to be able to play the pipes for the ramp ceremony the following day. I held up my right hand, which was numb, and looked at my fingers. The tips of 2 of them looked like they had been chewed up in a blender. I felt tears run down my face. Not because I thought I'd never play again, but because I couldn't play for my departed brothers the next day... I would have given both of my hands and more for their lives.

I had hoped to attend the ramp ceremony the next day, even if I couldn't play, but I couldn't move my legs and they couldn't put me in a wheel chair because of the shrapnel in my back. I was sedated that day, and came to on the plane to Germany.

I couldn't attend any of the funerals of my fallen family, and I feel no closure.

It has been a month and 12 days since I lost my brothers in Panjwayi and it might as well have been yesterday.

When I close my eyes at night I not only see the ones who have paid the ultimate price, but also the ones who are still there... and I feel as though I am betraying them.

My life seems to be dragging me on. My fiancé and I are planning our wedding and future. My family and I get together often. I've been able to socialize with my friends... and yet each thing I do here makes me feel guilty, because I shouldn't be here to enjoy this.

I wake up every day and plan and plot. I think of only one thing; how can I get back to my family... How can I get back to Afghanistan? My wounds are almost healed. Only 3 holes left and they're almost closed. I can walk pretty well now, but I need to run.

My family and friends don't understand. They don't want me to go back. My fiancé has threatened to end our relationship if I chose to return... and yet this doesn't dissuade me. I have to get back to my boys. I have to get back and do my part no matter the cost to me. I love my family here in Canada, but no one's shooting at them.

Every time I see more soldiers killed over there a piece of me dies, and I feel the urge to return grow stronger. And each day I enjoy in my freedom here, I feel as though I have betrayed their memory. I need to finish my job over there. I need to go back.

I can only think of the families of those who have died, and I can only say this, and hope it provides some solace:
A warrior's sword is made from the finest steel, forged by hammer and anvil to create and edge, baptized in hot coals and flame for strength, then quenched in cold water to harden it.

Our brotherhood of Warriors, the finest of men, has been forged by Battle; Baptized by fire and Quenched by tears...

We became and will always be a fraternity of blood with a bond stronger than death.

Pro Patria

I hate to rant, but I need to vent. It's been a hard road, and I know there are a few others here who have seen it and may or may not feel the same (HoM).

To the mods... feel free to delete this post if you find it pointless.

- Piper

Brotherhood of Warriors
Forged in battle
Baptized by fire
Quenched in tears

C Coy, 1 RCR
Panjwayi

Job Satisfaction

So Statscan says that 1 in 12 Canadians are not satisfied with their jobs.

Really? Wow, I would have thought that the numbers would be much higher than that. Is that to say that 11 in 12 ARE satisfied? That's not too bad at all. The report mention that shift workers, people working irregular shifts, sales representatives, service employees and factory workers all generally have lower levels of satisfaction. But I thought that there were a lot more people than that who were unsatisfied.

If so many people are happy, why do I always hear about boredom, the terrible bosses, the lack of vacation, and all that stuff that people generally like to say about their jobs? Is it just that people find common ground there? Is a job seen as "satisfying" if it does nothing more than provide a means to an end (money)?

I don't really know. What does it take to find satisfaction in a job? If I could point to one thing, it would probably be flow, the ol' je ne sais quoi that people can find in a job of any complexity, respect, or pay level. And a related question - why do people choose the job that they do? Do they get stuck in it because "it pays the bills?" Or because their education (or lack of education) limits them to it? What does it really take to abandon what you are doing and go after the job you always dreamed about?

I have the job I have always dreamed about. I am still training for it, and unfortunately there is still the stress-causing threat of failure. I lost sight of the job for a while a few years ago, when I felt myself being limited to my field of post-secondary knowledge. Luckily, I took a few months off after university, and found myself totally without employment upon my return. I had direction - I wanted to be a firefighter - but that wouldn't be possible for quite a while. It was during this time of working in a short-term, unsatisfying job that I found again what I wanted to do. For me, it wasn't the biggest risk. I left a fairly boring job for an exciting one. I ended up leaving behind my family and friends, but that didn't really seem real at the time so it wasn't at the top of my mind.

Someone else who is training here had to give up a whole lot more. He is married and has two kids, both with Down Syndrome. His wife has to take care of the kids. He had a comfortable job with IG as a financial planner. When he was 42 years old, he decided to give up his safe life and go for his lifelong dream of being a pilot in the Air Force. Now THAT....that is quite a risk.

So which is the way to go? Are you really satisfied with your job now? I ask myself this question all the time, and I am lucky enough to always have an answer. My contentedness could even be naive, considering the high failure rate and my complete lack of a backup plan, but I just don't want anything else right now. How about your job? Perhaps it is the safety of the job which gives you satisfaction and motivates you. Perhaps it really challenges you on a daily basis. Maybe you just work to make money to blow on the weekend. In any case, I think it is healthy to ask oneself every so often...is this the job I really want?

Saving the world

Here is an interesting article on the potentially harmful effects of a well-intentioned idea to help look after the earth - biofuels.

And here is an article by Jared Diamond, the author of the Pulitzer Prize-winning book Guns, Germs, and Steel. He wants to convince you about another one of those things that is helping to destroy not the world, but the folks like us who live in it - agriculture.

Save the world. And yourself!

Apologies

I am really sorry. Yes, this blog has fallen apart lately. No deep thoughts, no ranting, not even any effort-free photos. I am sorry. The thing is, I am really busy these days. I didn't hide it when I started writing here - I was doing it because I had a lot of time on my hands. That didn't mean I didn't have anything to say, even less so now, but I just am not willing to put as much time into it anymore. I am busy with classes, flying, and way more studying than I ever had to do in University. This puts my free time at a premium. And, as you can see, I haven't put the blog at the top of the free-time priority list.

You know what IS at the top of that list? Well, apparently it is attending local parties, because I have done so every weekend, save one, since I have been here. And of what does a local party consist? Well, let me tell you of one of them, in the hopes that you can copy this party wherever you are.

In these parts, it is called a Tac Eval. Sounds very army-ish, doesn't it? It stands for "tactical evaluation," and is essentially an evaluation of a coworker's (or boss's) situational awareness, as well as hospitality. You have to make sure all of your collegues are "in the know" and willing to accompany you, or it just turns into one creepy dude hanging out on someone else's lawn. Get everyone together somewhere, ensuring you have all party ingredients on hard (beer, ice, lawn chairs, bbq, food and condiments, maybe even some sort of music production apparatus). You then move to the front lawn of the house of the person being evaluated. You set up your chairs, sit back and crack a cold beer, and start the clock. His score is amount of time it takes for him to a) realize you are there, and b) invite you into his home. Of course, he should also offer his own beer, his own food, and all the comforts of his home, since you have all been so nice as to come to his house to throw him a party.

We did this a couple of weeks ago to some guys on my course. They are Hungarian, and it almost seemed that they were a separate course. They didn't come out with us, and barely even talked with us. We sure showed them. We forced them to hang out with us. We also forced it on their girlfriends, who all came all the way from Hungary to be with these guys. So much for alone time!

So, although BBQ season is sadly coming to an end, I do believe you have at least a few more weeks to make it happen. I will be flying/learning/studying/partying from here.

New things

Well. Almost done my 3rd week of ground school. This is tiring. Simulator training started this week. Here is what I noticed so far:

-My ejection seat is way fancier and more expensive than that office chair you have been bragging about. The cost ($75k or something like that) is not necessarily proportional to comfort.
-The atmosphere around here, where most of the students live in the same building and many eat together, is something like a university dorm. Except we get paid, and we actually study.
-Flying is some combination of art and science. The science part is knowing exactly what to do at a given time or to effectuate a given manoeuvre. The art is being able to move hands, feet, and fingers to make it happen.
-I'm not much of an artist
-My days would be about an hour shorter, and way less interesting, without instructors who have thousands of war stories to tell.
-The $12M simulators we fly in are cooler than Microsoft Flight Sim. But not THAT much cooler. I will stick with flight sim myself.
-Memorize your checks, and when you screw up the instructors won't notice as much.

And I haven't even started flying yet. That is on monday. Have a good weekend.

PowerTunes

This post is inspired by Nike. Or more specifically, the new Nike+ system, where a little chip goes in your shoe and transmits info to your iPod whilst running. In this way you can always feel like you have an annoying fat coach right beside you yelling. You know, the kind that rides on his bike at a leisurely pace while you are killing yourself running. Like it always showed in Mike Tyson's PunchOut! Anyway, interesting system. I won't be buying it. But the part that is interesting is that, according to the ad I saw on the Nike website, when you are down to the last few minutes, or perhaps just the hardest portion of the run, you can cue up your "Power Song." I definitely know what they're talking about there. These are the songs that are somehow able to make your legs move faster, despite the fact that they were just ready to stop. They make your lungs heave, despite their best attempts to slow you down. They give the extra minute, or just the extra few seconds, that make the difference between a good run and just going for a jog. So I dedicate this post to my favourite power songs of all time, in order or awesomeness:

1) The First Drop - Rise Against
1) The Artist in the Ambulance - Thrice
1) Bullion - Millencolin
1) Injection - Rise Against
1) Drowning Lessons - My Chemical Romance

If you know what a power song is, and these songs are not part of your repertoire, you are making a horrible mistake. Of course, I am always open to suggestions. What is YOUR best power song?

ABBREVTN OVRLD

I am in ground school. And I have now learned why pilots make the big bucks. It's all about abbreviations and acronyms. Pilots get paid to know them all. Below is a short sampling from the classes I have taken so far:

In ACT class
- EAS is CAS corrected for PE and CE.
- It is good to have a RAT in case of BTB fail if you don't have an APU.
- JET-A with FSII is ok if JP-8 is not available.

In ADY class
- L/Dmax is the AOA where Tr and Pr are at a minimum.
- The CL can be increased by BLC.
- The FADEC is replacing MFCU these days.
- SFC is lowered by increasing TIT and lowering IOAT
- ROCmax for a jet is at L/D max

And my personal favourite,
In AOIs class
- The PMA is powered off the RGB
- The PMA powers the PMU, though the BAT BUS is backup, and if PMU fails the PIU will do it manually.
- The ADC supplies info to the EHSI, the EADI, and the EIDs.
- The EDM supplies the EIDs through the PMU
- The AHRS transfers to the AHRU, which is interpreted and displayed by the EFIS and recorded by the FRD in the IDARS.
- VOR1 and 2, ILS, as well as UHF and ModeA/C/S of the ATC transponder can be controlled through the RMU. DME too, if available.

I'm not even joking. I'm not adding anything there. This is all real. And there is a whole crapload more. But now, I know what...MOST of it means.

The source of my inspiration...

The battle over cake

There is a huge internal battle that has been going on everyday since I arrived at my new home. This battle only occurs in one building, and only at certain times. Three times per day, in fact. At the mess hall.

I pay a flat rate for food each month now. Whether or not that rate is too much...well, that is a different question. But the fact is that I do, and this entitles me to certain things at each meal of the day. I am entitled to a starch at each meal, be it hashbrowns, rice, boiled potatoes, or something of the sort. I am entitled to one main protien dish. Two vegetables at lunch and dinner, and a piece of fruit. If I have any entrée, I am not entitled to a large salad - only a small. But the thing is, I am entitled to a dessert at EVERY MEAL. Geez, just yesterday I saw a guy eating a nanaimo bar at breakfast. And these desserts are GOOD. I think they must order them in, because the food prepared in the kitchen there doesn't really compare. They have cheesecake. Pecan pie. Chocolate mousse cake. Apple crumble. Rolo cake. Cherry pie. White cake. Nanaimo bars. Ice cream. Carrot cake. Pudding. Brownies. Coconut bars. We're not talking just one thing at a meal, we're talking about a selection of five or more.

So here is where the conflict comes in: There are two parts of me, deeply ingrained in my personality, that I feel each time I see one of these desserts. First of all is the desire to be healthy. You don't have to go on my caveman diet to know that dessert is not healthy. Sugar. Saturated fat. Trans fat. It is hard to find any redeeming nutrition quality in these foods. Yeah, sure, apple pie has apples in it. That doesn't make it healthy. I have even been working extra hard lately to eat very well, and now this influence comes along.

The second part of me, in conflict with the desire to be healthy, is my need to be economical. Some people might even call me "cheap," though I would beg to differ. But really, I just feel the need to get the maximum value out of every dollar I spend. So if I can get a $4 piece of cake for nothing, don't you think I should take advantage of that? Because really, I would be cheating myself if I didn't! Think of when I am out of here and have to pay for that myself! That is just ridiculous, when I could stock up now at no extra charge. When I take that piece of fruit, that is only worth $0.65. A full size nanaimo bar is worth $3.50. And costs me nothing! And they say eating healthy is expensive.

Yes, I realize that it just might be lame to eat chocolate cake for economical reasons.

Of course, the economical part of me has a very strong ally. He is called deliciousness. Because we allllll know how delicious dessert is.

So far, I have resisted. Out of 28 meals, I have had only one dessert - an enourmous piece of moist yet rich chocolate cake. With chocolate icing. And chocolate shavings on top. Capped off with chocolate drizzle. Hey, if you're going to go, don't go half-way. But my inner beliefs continue to batter each other at every meal.

Come onnnnnnn, Healthymatt.

Motivation

Well, here I am. Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. Everything I ever wanted, almost. I have a nice place to live, decent food to eat, lots of friends here, and I am actually advancing my career/life now. Same goes for all the other trainees. So everyone should be happy, right?

Ha.

No.

There is way too much stress here for people to be happy. The only really happy guy I have talked to, not including the other guys on my course who just got here, was someone who finished his course last week. And this is the story another guy told about him:

"Andrew wasn't like this until Friday, you know. For 8 months, he was miserable. I went into his room a few months ago to ask him how things were on the course, since I was only a couple months into it and was not having a good time with it. 'Well, man,' he said, 'prepare yourself, because it doesn't get any better.' It wasn't very inspiring. I wasn't very motivated." No kidding. And that is all I have heard since I arrived. One guy today said he told his instructor he had to get a haircut, so he didn't have to fly. Everyone, all 80 or 90 of the other people who are on the courses ahead of me, just can't wait to be finished and out of here. Yet I haven't even STARTED GROUND SCHOOL yet, never mind being close to finishing the course. Yeesh.

GAFF remains high. Motivation high. Let's see how long I can hold that.

The special ingredient

Cross your t's

I correct people's grammar. I correct spelling. I correct punctuation. I most definitely tell then when a word they are using doesn't make any sense in the way they are using it. I do it because I wouldn't want the message to be confused or misinterpreted.

This pisses people off. It REALLY pisses off some people. "You know what I mean," say some. "F*** you, you a**hole, leave me alone," say others.

I feel better about it today, however. According to this story, Rogers is going to lose over 2 million dollars due to the misuse of a comma. Yes, a comma, that most basic of punctuation marks, was placed where, apparently...something else should have been placed. They made a deal to lock in the price for using utility poles in the Maritimes to string their cable lines. Now Aliant, with whom they made the deal, has cancelled it and the rates are going up. If you read the sentence in question in the contract, it seems very obvious to me that this deal could be cancelled:

"The agreement 'shall continue in force for a period of five years from the date it is made, and thereafter for successive five year terms, unless and until terminated by one year prior notice in writing by either party.'”

When there are two commas in a sentence, the third clause refers to the first. They intended the contract to be in force for five years, with the option of a cancellation thereafter with one year's notice. Too bad, Rogers. Send those lawyers back to school.

My new home

I finally did it. I finally made it out of Winnipeg. For good. Ok, at least for a while. I am the newest resident of Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. For those of you who don't know where that is...well, you probably don't care, either. But as far as I know, there haven't been any hate-songs written about my new home, so I will take it. My new place even has 3 rooms, instead of one. That's right, I don't have to walk down the hall to the bathroom anymore. Simple things keep me happy.

As for Winnipeg...I still detest you. I found an awesome restaurant on my last night there, and that may be the best part of the entire city. I guess I shouldn't rant too much about the city, though. In addition to the fact that I have already done that, I will more than likely be back in Manitoba within a year, and probably back in Winnipeg before too many years. But if there is one picture that makes me think of Winnipeg, it is this one. That is Blue Bombers' kicker Troy Westwood. Trying to defend Winnipeg, as Winnipeggers often have to do. Because the rest of the country knows that the place sucks.