One of my first night shots.  The Trent University Athletic complex in Peterborough, Ontario, taken from the other side of the Otonabee river.

Des Informations, des Idées, et des Opinions Suspectes - rarement mises à jour et de qualité douteuse.

Stuff that just popped into my head...

The Scarlet Letter. Facebook sucks. French Kissing. Second Life. A Canadian history lesson. Merging onto the highway. A joke. Profanity. Trading a red paperclip. Starving people and limited resources. Zero-tolerance speed traps. Turning 40 Juicy Fruit. Survivor.

...over the last three years.

I am the Survivor über-fan. And after watching Survivor for 20 seasons now, I have figured out that anyone actually deserving of the million dollar grand prize is always sitting on the jury come final tribal council. Every single time. This time with Survivor:Heroes vs. Villains, it was Rupert.


My daughter and I bought a pack of "Juicy Fruit Pink" the other day at the grocery store. I now realize that anything with the words “Juicy Fruit” on it will taste terrible. On the topic of Juicy Fruit – exactly what kind of fruit is Juicy Fruit supposed to be? The nearest we can figure is banana. So, Juicy Fruit is banana-flavoured gum then – sounds so appetizing.


I realize that turning 40 a few years ago affected me negatively and profoundly. But I thought the negative effect was simply because I’m getting older. I realize now that being older has nothing to do with it. The reason I hate being over 40 is because I am becoming irrelevant. Like the aging grandparent neglected in the corner at the family reunion, with each passing day I lose any ability to become an agent of change within the sphere of my own personal community and (diminishing) influence. The downhill slide that is my 40s is actually a speedy descent into pointlessness.


Recently a colleague of mine received a speeding ticket while driving 50kmh in a 40kmh zone. Normally that wouldn't deserve a ticket however the cop told my colleague that it was a "zero-tolerance" zone. What a load of crap. Here's my theory. Here in Peterborough, cops are paid by the city. The city always needs more money but there are limited avenues from which to get the money. I mean - taxation only works for so much. One lucrative angle is to put cops out on the street, and have them hand out tickets under the guise of "speeding kills" and "protecting the pedestrian pubic" (pun intended,) etc. and similar b.s.
So after people get a ticket or two, they actually start driving the adhoc speed limit (90kmh in an 80kmh zone) because after all, nobody actually wants a ticket. Now, the problem is that the cops/city still need/want the money. Their money hunger hasn't gone away, only the pool of available speeding drivers has. So some bureaucrat comes up with the stupid idea that a car doing 10 kmh over the speed limit is more dangerous to the public than one doing the speed limit exactly. See where I am going? No. Maybe I'm wrong; maybe if I run over a kid doing only 40kmh instead of 50kmh, the kid won't get hurt...


Last summer, after a hornet flew into the van while I was driving down the road. My wife's attempts to swat it by guiding the hornet's stinger into my back resulted in my getting stung on the back multiple times (and me weaving the minivan down a small town main street like a drunken Mario Andretti.) After the fracas was over and the dead hornet was removed from the van, I explained to my kids that it really hurt. My daughter said, "I know it must have hurt Dad; you said the "F" word like 500 times."


An old joke. If you can get past the stereotypes, it's pretty funny. An Irishman, a Mexican and a Canadian were doing construction work on scaffolding on the 20th floor of a building. They were eating lunch and the Irishman said, "Corned beef and cabbage! If I get corned beef and cabbage one more time for lunch, I'm going to jump off this building." The Mexican opened his lunch box and exclaimed, "Burritos again! If I get burritos one more time I'm going to jump off, too." The Canadian opened his lunch and said, "Peameal again! If I get a Peameal sandwich one more time, I'm jumping too." The next day, the Irishman opened his lunch box, saw corned beef and cabbage, and jumped to his death. The Mexican opened his lunch, saw a burrito, and jumped, too. The Canadian opened his lunch, saw the peameal and jumped to his death as well. At the funeral, the Irishman's wife was weeping. She said, "If I'd known how really tired he was of corned beef and cabbage, I never would have given it to him again!" The Mexican's wife also wept and said, "I could have given him tacos or enchiladas! I didn't realize he hated burritos so much." Everyone turned and stared at the Canadian's wife. The Canadian's wife said, "Don't look at me. He makes his own lunch."


Could someone please tell me exactly where in the Highway Traffic Act it says that if you are in the right lane of the highway and someone is on the on-ramp trying to merge into your lane, that you then MUST swing your dumb ass out into the middle (or left) lane where I am overtaking you?

It's not required! If you think it's the law or something, here's the world's shortest driving lesson for you:

1. If you are in the right lane, leave space between you and the car in front of you.
2. If you are the one on the on-ramp, then come up to highway speed quickly and aim for the space.
3. Stay the !@#$ out of my lane.


I predicted the popularity of blogs at least a couple of years before the tidal wave of popularity offically rolled in. I remember trying to figure out how I could make money from it - still a mystery to me. In my prime, I also made at least a couple of other IT-related predictions that have since come true. (The keyboard? That's my idea.) Perhaps more telling, I've never made an IT prediction that hasn't come true - so mark my words...the currently popular social networking sites - like facebook and myspace, will over time go the way of the dodo, kazaa lite, and human-verified search engines; somewhat cute yet stupid wastes of time for people who consider being able to open a facebook account their crowning technical achievement.


I figured Second Life would be fun even if I don't participate in the virtual adultery. I signed up with the name I always wished I had - Jock Zehetbauer (of course) and chose my avatar - a smooth and swarthy latin lounge-lizard type guy. But within days of activating my account, downloading the Second Life client and logging on, my alter-ego (Jock) began spending all of my days and nights sitting in front of my virtual PC playing an addictive online game called Third Life. He never left the virtual house. And then after his Third Life avatar started wasting his days and nights playing 4th Life instead of going out to party I decided that enough was enough. It was getting too hard to keep track of everything and besides, the irony wasn't exactly lost on me.

So I think I'll continue to spend the majority of my time in First Life ™ thank you very much.


I recently discovered this thing called the Internet and I was browsing around it recently and found Romance Class (tag line: "learn to love - online!"), and more specifically I ended up at French Kissing Tips and Techniques, where contributors suggest just that - tips and techniques on how to be a good french kisser. I started reading through the tips and I kid you not, it was kind of hot! I guess this is the kind of thing that old men like me find titillating now, but reading through the tips certainly created some lovely mental images and brought back some old memories from a long, long, long time ago.

And recognizing that the kissing world at large could benefit from someone with my wisdom and expertise, I'm going to contribute my own personal tips and tricks using as my handle the same nickname I had back in high school (drool-bucket). You see, I'm a giver.


"Shun thy neighbour." I've got a weird theory for you. You're a big-city-slicker in a new town for the first time. Let's say you've just bought a house there. It's not hard to imagine that it might take some time for you to get to know everyone in town and become accepted by the townsfolk as one of them. But now let's say that you've sold your house a couple of months prior to moving to a new town. Is it possible that you might be shunned by the people of your current community, sort of in advance of the big moving day?

A while ago, I moved from Sutton West, Ontario to my current home in Peterborough, Ontario. For those of you who are not familiar with Canadian geography, that's the equivalent of moving from backwoods Alabama to some other part of backwoods Alabama - and shunning is the type of stuff you've got to be worried about in small town Ontario Canada.

Stuff that just popped into my head...

This background is: green_cup.jpg. It has an average lumosity of: 134.533333333 and came from: subtlepatterns.com
Maybe read No Big Deal, a story I consider to be the very best thing I ever wrote.