Bye Bye Little Fetal Birds

This morning as I was about to leave the house to go to work, my wife, who was returning from delivering our green compost bin to the end of the driveway, informed me of four dead little baby birds that were on our walkway and driveway.  Would I dispose of them, she asked.  I would, I offered.
I don’t know how they died.  Perhaps a cat?  Perhaps some bigger bird.  I assumed they came for the birdhouse that is attached to our rapidly deteriorating barn/shed.  If they were from that house, then they were kind of like family, I thought, because that’s how I see the birds that live on our property:  like family.  Not tenants.  Family.

They were the tiniest little baby birds, maybe two inches long. Seemingly featherless, nothing but bone and skin.  I got a spade and gently scooped them up, two at a time and then whipped them into the small grove of trees behind our yard.  I didn’t like whipping them in there, poor little dead pieces of nothing, but I really had no option.  The compost cart, afterall, was way at the end of the driveway.

As I was scooping up the final two birds, I thought to myself "Hey, I should take a picture of this."  You know, to somehow commemorate their death.  To honour them.  Then I thought about it and decided that I wasn’t the kind of guy that took pictures of little dead fetal birds.
I’m glad, in the end, maybe in some Amish way, that I didn’t take the picture.

Tonight’s menu:  Chicken!!

Will America Finally Be A-Fed Up?

I only got to watch the final two performances of American Idol last night, and I am pretty sure I’m glad of that.  I think maybe I enjoy American Idol more if I don’t watch it.  Aw, who am I kidding.  I’d prefer to watch and not enjoy it.

Anyway, I can’t really comment on the performances or the judges or the repartee of last night’s show, but I can probably safely say that: the performances were such that I wouldn’t have enjoyed them (in all the American Idol performances I’ve ever seen, in all the years, the only performance I *enjoyed* was likely Fantasia’s "Child that’s got his own" from last year.); the judges were mostly asanine except for the spot-on Simon; and the repartee was neither repart or partee.

I don’t know how the kicking off works when there’s only four, but I think Carrie and Anthony will be the two who will be on the edge of leaving tonight, with Anthony finally getting the boot, 9 episodes too late.
Really, I have no idea what The Idiotic Masses Of America(tm)’s thinking with this year.  They’re certainly not thinking with their Talent Meters.  Heck, even Bo could go tonight.

Does This Thing Still Work?

Yeah, so I’ve been really busy at work.
Too busy to keep in touch with your online friends, Rob?
Well, yeah, kinda.  There’s a lot of stuff happening and some of it doesn’t belong on this blog, so I kinda took a hiatus from here while it sorted out.
You mean "from us".  Did you even consider how we’d feel during this so-called hiatus?  Listen to you, with the big Hollywood word.  Is that it?  Have you gone all Showbiz on us now, Rob?  And we still don’t buy it, this ‘too busy’ crap.  Are you seriously saying that you couldn’t find a moment or two to touch base?  A minute out of your jam-packed day to say "Hi friends."  One minute?  You know, we honestly don’t believe it takes you much more time than that to come up with most of your posts anyway.
Hey, that hurts. Sometimes I take a lot of time to come up with these posts.
Not this one, I’ll bet.
No, not this one.
So, you’re back?  You’ll be posting again.
I hope so.
We missed you.
I missed you all too.

The Bat-Man’s An Arse-Hole

Here’s a fun little quicktime link all about Robin’s Big Date.

Entertaining, and has Zaphod Beeblebrox as Bat-Man.

Rosie O’Donnell Plays Retarded

I know it’s a politically incorrect term, but when you watch this, I think you’ll agree that it’s somehow apropos.

I had read where Rosie was doing this movie, but I didn’t watch it.  I know that seeing these bits of video out of context isn’t fair, but holy shit.

A.I. – Back From The Future

I just returned from the future – from about 6 hours in the future, to be exact.  I went into the future so I could give you an advanced rundown of tonight’s American Idol televisionistic presentation.

Tonight, on American Idol…

Well, Ryan came out to an unbelievably large audience of maniacal fans.  One sign that stood out to me, held by a chubby 13 year old girl, said:  "Scotty, You Terroridol Me!!"… Cute.  Ryan was wearing a tight black t, with a dark brown suit jacket and dark jeans.  His hair was tossled just so.  He introduced the judges, and while doing so, made an innuendo-joke about Simon swallowing a turnip.  Simon retorted with a comment on Ryan’s lack of any talent for anything.  Oh those two, when are they gonna get married!
Then it was time for Ryan to introduce the pre-recorded segment when he tells the group about tonight’s genre.  He runs in to the Coke Room and shows them all pictures of feces.  After Vonzell guesses "the same type of shit we’ve been singing forever" and Scotty guesses "I hate my dad!", Ryan tells them "No, tonight’s genre is songs that have moved you."  So, you know, that’s gonna be shitty.
First up is Vonzell.  She’s wearing some rock-hard faded denim pants, a navel-showing pink short-t, and a black leather jacket.  She’s chosen  Climax At The End Of Movie from Disney’s animated feature "Humanimal" because, as she says "Climax At The End Of Movie was so great and made me and my Mom cry when we saw it with the twins."  It’s not an uptempo song, so that’s not good.  Vonzell starts off poorly, but by the end hits some incredible high and sustained notes.  Randy didn’t like it, bro, and thinks it wasn’t her best performance.  Vonzell asks him to be a little more articulate in his criticism, and he says, "you know, it was… okay, but not, I don’t know, you best."  Paula starts to talk about Vonzell’s lipstick choice, and how it glistens in the pretty lights.  But as she’s talking, she gets side-tracked by a moth that flutters by.  Simon says she was "absolutely pathetic" and wishes her "dead" for making him sit through that "festering pile of shit".  Ryan comments about how that relates to the theme of the night, then gives Vonzell’s phone number.
Next up is Bo, and Bo’s wearing the rockin’est most rockin’ clothes you’ve ever laid your eyes on.  For tonight’s show, Bo tells us, he’s chosen  Shitty Song from his favourite BlisterMetal band, Trixxiksiks.  His voice sounds a bit raspy, but it doesn’t matter once the bleeding-from-the-mouth starts.  At this point I begin to miss Constantine, as I imagine him singing this song.  Then I realise that the blood that comes out of his mouth would be fake blood.  Bo forgets a few of the lyrics and replaces them with Indian Yelps.  Randy calls this performance "the bomb, man".  Paula purses her lips tight together and begins to make toy-motorboat engine sounds, as spittle flies all about.  Simon declares Bo the King of Bo and all his loyal subjects will no doubt vote him through to the next round.  Ryan comes on and calls Simon "The King of Gay" and Simon retorts with something about how Ryan could be his servant.  Ryan then gives out Bo’s phone details.
Third up is Anthony, or as Ryan calls him "A Dot To The N Dot To The T Dot To The H Dot To The O Dot To The N Dot To The Y Dot…F Dot To the E Dot To The D Dot To The E Dot Again To The R Dot To The O Dot Once More To The V Dot".  Anthony, in his introduction to the song he’s chosen, reminds us that he’s a communist, that he had a tracheal torture  experiment done on him when his family tried to escape Pitymeosk.  He’s chosen Billy Joel’s Piano Man because he loves that he’s still in the competition and this is a song that he could sing.  Anthony does a terrible job of the song and the audience goes crazy when each of the judges says it was terrible.  Even Paula sobers up enough to say it was wonderful.  Ryan reminds us that if you don’t vote for Anthony, the Earth will stop spinning and we’ll all get flung off the earth.
Next is Carrie and she tells us she’s singing Chritina MacCountry’s uptempo song Beaten, Bloodied and Betrothed because she too, knows someone who "once went through the terrible atrocity of wife beating in an entertaining uptempo way".  She sings the hell out of it and the judges all tell her she’s the one to beat.  Nobody gets the joke.  Mostly because none of the judges realised it was a joke.  Ryan says he’d like to beat Simon and Simon says he would like to be beaten by Ryan.  There is an uncomfortable silence as they both, for the first time, speak the truth about their relationship.
Finally, Scott.  He tells us that he has an awful headache and he’s spoken with Jesus about his father, and Jesus said that Scott should punish us for his father’s actions.  Scott lies that he’s chosen Van Halen’s Jump as his song to sing tonight, because, he says, "it moved me, I guess.".  But when Scott comes out on stage, he’s dressed in a long black trenchcoat, and screams that "this is for all the shit!!" and pulls out a semi-automatic machine gun and begins to plug bullets into everyone he can, all the while screaming at the top of his lungs.  Unfortunately the screaming is off-key, and full of trills and bullshit fake-feeling.  Ryan gives us his phone number and bleeds to death.

Bottom Three:  Scott, The Audience, Me for planning to watch.

Leaving on Wednesday:  Scott.

Seacrest, out!

It’s Enough To Make A Pig Say “Huh? Wha’?”

My friend Dave tells me that, among the rather large and curious menu at the new Chinese restaurant in town (close to Cedar’s), the offer:

Onion Rings (no fries)
&
Ham burgers.

I imagined a scenario where all the pigs, who had become relatively comfortable with their lot in the Human Dietary Comsumption Order, gathering around to hear the latest news:

"It’s not good, fellows.  Remember how we used to laugh at the irony of the word "hamburger"?  How we used to mock the cows with it?  Well, seems like the laughing and mockery may be coming to an end.  Seems like the humans have found another way to prepare us."
"Huh?"
"Wha’?"

Tins Non-keen Men’s Theatre

As you might have guessed I’m not a Globe and Mail guy per se. But for
no good reason whatsoever a couple months ago I got hooked on the
Cryptic Crossword at the back of the book review section of Saturday’s
Globe. I think it’s because of the whole anagram thing. You know: you
rearrange the letters to make a new word or phrase out of the given
letters.

So here’s your next assignment. I want you to make an Anagram out of:
The Annekenstein Monster.

It’s Enough To Make A Pig Say "Huh? Wha’?"

My friend Dave tells me that, among the rather large and curious menu at the new Chinese restaurant in town (close to Cedar’s), the offer:

Onion Rings (no fries)
&
Ham burgers.

I imagined a scenario where all the pigs, who had become relatively comfortable with their lot in the Human Dietary Comsumption Order, gathering around to hear the latest news:

“It’s not good, fellows.  Remember how we used to laugh at the irony of the word “hamburger”?  How we used to mock the cows with it?  Well, seems like the laughing and mockery may be coming to an end.  Seems like the humans have found another way to prepare us.”
“Huh?”
“Wha’?”

Red Carpet Sale – Predictions Half Off!!

Here’s my Oscar picks for 2006:

Best Picture:
I imagine they’ll revert back to their nonsensical judication process,
sooo… Harry Potter 4 or War of the worlds.

Best Actor:
This will go to the black actor in a non-comedy role, like Martin
Lawrence in Big Momma’s house 3.

Best Female:
Definatly one of the greats that I used to like when I was younger,
until they became obscure. I can see Bette Middler, or Liza for their
stellar performance in the remake of Gone with the wind.

Best Director:
Let’s see… They might give a sympathy one to Lucas, but I doubt it.
I’ll go with… Eastwood again. People like him.

Best Sound design:
My personal favourite category will be swept again by Scott Millan and
Greg Orloff.

At any rate I’ll give away more annekenstein goodies if any of my
predictions actually come true.