Her BUNS are the BEST!

This deserved a post unto itself.

The title says it all: "A Stoned Sir Patrick Stewart Teaches His 35-Year-Old Girlfriend How to Act."

I don't think any further annotation is necessary. As Jo put it, linking this article, "The internet is on fire this week".

Also, I like his sweater.

Also, how many takes does it count as if it's incessant?

Yoooooouuuuurrrrr (watch) face is a company face

 Well, I probably wouldn't have blogged tonight, but Kristy beseeched me to. So... don't say I never did nothin' for you. Or something.

Anyhoo. Staying at my Grandmother's place in my last night in Ontario has stirred up a bunch of memories, seeing as the last time I was here I was saying goodbye to my Grandpa, who passed away in early January, but in a way it's sort of capping the whole emotional growth/memory untapping project of this whole trip nicely. A big agenda of mine of late has been to try to acknowledge when physical spaces store memories and emotions, but not letting myself be consumed and controlled by them, but instead working with them to fuse memories with forward momentum and growth, so being back here is kind of helpful in that way. At any rate, an appropriate culmination to the trip, and just as worthwhile.

Also, visiting my Grandmother this time proved especially awesome, as going through one of her bookshelves yielded some fairly fantastic finds. Check these out!

Yes "trenches". As in WWI. You'll notice the date is 1918.












And, for your reading pleasure, a copy of Uncle Tom's Cabin (the "Young Folks' Edition", to boot!), dated 1912. Yes folks, this book is 101 years old.










Coooooooooooool.


In other completely unrelated world news, here is your dose of "web patriarchy systematically shut down" for the day, courtesy of Dr. Jill McDevitt, sexologist and Cosmo contributor. Also, your daily dose of the term "raw-dog". Hopefully.

In further unrelated news, this made me laugh:

Then I pictured Ben Affleck, and laughed some more. 

OKAY, I'M DONE.

Maybe.

Nah. 

Moving on.

I have a fact and everything, courtesy of my Uncle Steven! Here goes!

#38: When you reach an anniversary at a major company (25 years of employment, etc.), they allow you to choose your commemorative gift from a website, like a wedding registry. 

Isn't that hilarious? This struck me as so typical of "our time", in a weird way. No "here's your watch" - it's "pick out your own bloody gift and order it from amazon on our dime, because we can't be bothered". The sentiment and personal agency in the matter is nice, but it strikes me as basically the reward equivalent of a gift card.

Consequently, I'll now have "The Company Way" from How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying stuck in my head for the rest of the night. And yes, I went with the Radcliffe version because I hadn't heard him sing it yet, and this gave me an excuse to. Also, he's a cutie. Deal with it.

So there we go! Last Ontario blog. Next up: Calgary! Sayanara, fooz!

Booties and circles and other suggestive sounding things

So, this is essentially me right now:

(Side note: I won't reveal how embarassingly long I spent trying to find a visual for this. Apparently the internet doesn't want to make gifs of Tobey Maguire dumping sand out of his Spidey-boot. Way to fail me at my moment of creative need, internet)

(Side note #2: we also had an amusing discussion about appropriate usage of the word 'booties'. Is it just for babies' footwear, or for short boots as well? Only the fashion Gods shall know for sure)

The point is, I went to the beach at Grand Bend today with Mike, Jess and Becca, and it was a barrel of fun. Going to the beach in Ontario makes for a wonderful novelty indeed - especially when accompanied by such stalwart friends as mine. From life-chats on inner tubes floating far enough out on the lake to get a lifeguard to whistle abrasively at us (a first!), to rapping Linkin Park on the car ride back, I had about as fun a day as I could ask for. 

And, sure enough, I even found me a beach-bound fact! Okay, it has nothing to do with the beach whatsoever. But Becca told it to me and it was interesting, so go do what Wolverine says, and listen up, kiddies. 

#37: There is a preconception that serial killers are known for being able to draw perfect circles. 

We interrogated this notion a bit over beachside beers and burgers tonight. Would that be because of their violently obsessive nature forcing them to compulsively practice? A deficiency in their brain that, while compromising on empathy, allows for particularly acute geometric awareness? A strange quirk of nature? Or complete bunk? I'm more inclined towards the latter, but it's an interesting urban myth regardless! 

Now, since I've run out of Hellboy to read (I'll be interested to see if the comic actually ever tops the near-apocalyptic one I just read), and this is the second day in a row I've kept myself up past 3:00am writing (not only on this blog post, silly - I've also been journaling a shit-ton more! And it's all happy stuff too! Yay!), I'm going to see myself to bed. Fare thee all well, one and all! 

Blue shoe, blue shoe, world's end for me and you

Unexpectedly most pertinent double-bill ever? The World's End and Blue Jasmine. What, pray tell, could the conclusion of Edgar Wright's "cornetto trilogy" (virtually flawless as a trilogy, in my opinion)  and Woody Allen's latest outing, possibly have in common?

Well, I'm glad you asked, nonexistent hyothetical amorphous mass of a reader!

Both films deal a lot with nostalgia, and the difficulty of getting beyond a romanticized past and moving on to a productive future. Both, while hilarious, left me ultimately feeling sad and troubled, but in a good way, as if both had provided much needed sips at the goblet of "actual life wisdom" (someday Ima have to procure me a chug o' that). Both ended up vividly recalling people in my life, or at least aspects of them, as only the best films can do (God forbid I ever become a Gary King, but I will contend that he stands as an eerie doppleganger of who I could at least somewhat become if left unchecked and non-reflective).

And both, as you may have concluded, were pretty fucking awesome.

In general, this visit in Waterloo continues to only become steadily more rad. Massive heart-to-hearts with many of the most important people in my life? Pretty fucking crucial. Feeling semblances of actual emotional progress, of feeling the Sisyphusian boulder actually edging up the proverbial mountain? Pretty revelatory.

Also, beer is fun.

 

Yes I know it's from Shaun of the Dead, not The World's End. So sue me.

And, amidst all of this jovality, dear reader, I've even found a good ol' fact of the day for you, courtesy of my Uncle Ron.

#36: Back in the day, but as recently as the 1970s, shoe stores used x-ray machines to check the fit of one's foot within the shoe.

Yeah. This was an extremely common thing, apparently, but I had absolutely no idea. This threw me entirely for a loop. I'm sure your mind, as mine did, immediately leapt to the health concerns involved. Apparently, for those thrusting their feet into the x-rays, it was just fine. But for the shoe store clerks who were consistently putting their hands under said x-rays over and over again? Less harmless. 

Damn science, you scary. 

And with that, to bed. Tomorrow: the beach! And yes, I realize in Vancouver I have my pick of countless beaches on any given day. But in Ontario, beach day is a wonderful novelty, which makes it all the more exciting. And thus, I shall do justice to it. By sleeping. For a change.

Excelsior!

NANANANANANANANANANANANANANA

So this happened.

And the internet, predictably enough, explodes. My favourite is the one who describes him as looking like a 40 year old who still does kegstands. That's an image that's hard to shake.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not one to jump on the internet bandwagon of fan backlash just because. Most recently, I found myself standing my own against angry nerds threatening Shane Black's head for certain... creative liberties... in Iron Man 3 (does it still count as spoilers if you really have no excuse for not watching the majestic Iron Man 3 yet? Whatever. I'll respect that until the DVD release, at which point it's all bets off), and generally defending Man of Steel as one of the strongest superhero movies I've seen in years, which apparently is a controversial stance. I was even one of those people, way back in 2007, who, against the standard "WTF why is Heath Ledger the Joker" narrative, was one of those voices of cautious "Nolan knows what he's doing" optimism. Hell, I even still hold the much maligned Daredevil as one of my favourite guilty pleasures, so I'm not even against Affleck's almost universally ridiculed genre credentials.

But Batfleck is something I simply cannot get behind. Just say the name "Bruce Wayne" while looking at his stubbly smirk. I can't even describe it without starting to giggle. Nervously. Yes, Affleck has more than proven himself as a director of late. But a sterling director (and to me, thus far, he remains a "good not great" director - though admittably I've yet to see The Town) does not a quality actor make. And, even if it did, it does not guarantee good casting. Which, ultimately, is my main gripe - even if I adored Affleck, I would still find him hilarious, grotesquely miscast.

Director Zack Snyder came the closest to arguing for Affleck's presence by describing him as carrying the weight and presence of an actor who is far more established than Henry Caville, thus lending an interesting dynamic to their duo (OKAY I'M SORRY, I HAD TO). Fair enough. But surely there are dozens of other actors who could equally provide such screen presence while being better casting. Secretly, when they said "grizzled older Batman", a part of me was still holding out for the name that was thrown around the most 10 years ago when the prospect of adapting Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Strikes Again: Clint Eastwood. Yes yes, I know, he's far too old now, even for an "older Batman", but a lad can dream, can't he? But even if not him, the rumours of Richard Armitage as a more middle-aged Bruce Wayne were appealing. But seri-eeeeheeeheeeheee, sorry, my brain just remembered the word "Batfleck" and started giggling again. Good luck building towards your Justice League movie at this rate, DC. You're doing a bang-up job of following up Man of Steel.

Anyway, fanboy rant over. For now. My fact of the day - surprise surprise - is also Batman related.

#35: Bruce Wayne is named after Scottish patriot warrior and king, Robert the Bruce and American military legend 'Mad' Anthony Wayne.

As much as I'm still staunchly embedded in camp Marvel over DC, I will say this for DC: they sure did put a bit more thought into naming their characters than my idol, good ol' Stan 'The Man' Lee. As catchy as Peter Parker, Reed Richards, Bruce Banner, Sue Storm, Scott Summers, Betty Brant, Robbie Robertson and J. Jonah Jameson are as characters, I can't help but think the thought invested into naming them was somewhat less profound and researched.

Like most great writers, this is where Stan Lee probably took most of his inspiration from.

So, as I prepare for the monumental awesomeness of THE WORLD'S END - the conclusion of the 'Cornetto trilogy' by the man I can now, on the record, refer to as my favourite living director* - by having some beers with the ever-esteemed Mr. Grantaloon von Skeeternaut, have a MARVELous (okay, that was actually accidental, but I'm keeping it regardless. To quote my fantastic friend Wendy, "Coincidental puns are my life!") day, fraught with thoughts of BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Sorry. Batfleck moment again.

Sayonara!






*hopefully that title won't be disputed come tonight. Somehow I doubt it will be, though. Knock on wood regardless, though!  

Maddeningly relaxed

"We are all born mad. Some... remain so."
-Samuel Beckett

Well, true believers, today proved to be one hell of a day! I was privileged enough to be taken by my Mom to see not one, but TWO productions at Stratford festival: Tommy and Waiting for Godot (my first time seeing Godot, though I've meant to for ages, and it's definitely semi-consciously influenced a lot of my own playwriting style). Both were utterly fantastic, and indicative of the standard sterling quality associated with the festival.

At the time, too, I would have considered the two to be a rather comically non-sequitur double-bill, but, in a very Hatch fashion, I couldn't help but draw links between both shows. Both address issues of the inevitable striving to assert identity in purpose in a world seemingly designed to unravel such pretenses, and the importance of, in the face of seeming futility, doing one's best to enjoy the wacky ride across this barely fathomable ride known as life. To me, that wasn't too much of a stretch. Regardless, that and a rather superb conversation with my Mom made for a rather unforgettable day, and a rather ideal antidote to the increasing sense of stagnation and mild existential despair that was beginning to gnaw irritatingly at my shinbones once again. Hooray!

Moreover, my Mom even provided me with a similarly gusto-infusing fact of the day!

#34: Doing 30 seconds of the yoga poses 'child's pose' and 'downward dog' every day serves to produce gamma-Aminobutyric acid (or "gaba", as it is more commonly known) - a natural anti-anxiety chemical - in your body.

So, there you have it - amidst all of the other "get fixed quick" schemes and various bandaid solutions to our myriad of daily cultural malaises, apparently a quick shot of yoga is actually pretty damn good for you on a number of fronts beyond general flexibility, stretching and relaxation. This, to me, sounds tantalizingly achievable. That said, this is coming from the guy who has made it his '_______[insert occasion]'s resolution' to stretch every day for several years now, and has followed through on this... maybe one day a year. Nonetheless, reminders are helpful, particularly with so lucrative a payload attached.

Thus concludes one of my most relentlessly positive posts in a while! Yay! Let it wash over you, similarly dosing you in warm thoughts of puppy-cuddling, back scratches, and all sorts of cloying, inspirational 'it takes fewer muscles to smile than frown!' factoids.

And, just in case those aren't doing the trick, thank God for Jennifer Lawrence.

Sad whale, happy "vacation"

Hello blog-reading-type-people!

Have I been enjoying my "vacation"? What I have been doing is trying to determine if something is still a vacation if the geographic location is far less exciting than one's current place of residence. But, nonetheless, I will call it a vacation. A vacation into delightful and very welcome old and dear friends and family. Parks galore, the heuther hotel, Princess cinemas, Phil's... you name it. Amidst it all, a general feeling of very much needed comfort and happiness, in terms of faces and places alike.

"Faces and places". Dear god. Shoot me now. Or perhaps cut off my hand, "Saudi style" (groan), as Hit Girl would put it.

Oh yeah. I saw Kick-Ass 2 tonight. Prime example of very interesting ideas stuck in a shoddy script, but with some particularly good one-liners (arguably the best: "It's like finding out your best friend is secretly Will Smith!") and bits of fantastically brutal violence peppered throughout. It may not be the movie that we want, but it sure is the movie that Gotham needs. Or something. Batman is cool.

Yes, I missed you too, Hit Girl. 

That said, if you're preparing to jump on the Kick-Ass love-in (heh. heh. McLovin'. I get it) train, do also be sure to read what creator Mark Millar, along with one of the other most important and influential people in comics in the past several decades, Todd MacFarlane, have to say about how comics apparently are not for girls. And then wince. And then reflect on the sad symmetry of two of the people who worked the hardest to push comics as an art form forward pull it back about forty years. As Becca retorted, "welcome to the '60s". Now please feel free to sing. 

Amidst all of my "vacationing", Kristy was even sufficiently spectacular to pay a cameo appearance to Waterloo herself! While she was here, we saw Blackfish - or, as we dubbed it, "Sad Whale". Consider it heartily recommended. That said... that whale is mighty sad. And a bit homicidal. And in spite of that, by the end of the movie, the only one you don't end up blaming at all is the whale. Go figure. Poor Sad Tilikum. 

Nonetheless, Blackfish also provided me with a fact of the day so good that, although I saw it half a week ago, I'm going to hold onto it and present it anyway! 

#32: Killer whales have a part in their brains that humans do not, which allows them to process emotions with greater nuance and sophistication than us. 

This was my reaction:

Apparently I'm on a Will Smith kick tonight. Perhaps it's because I listened to his "nice, clean rap" earlier.

But yeah. Let that fact marinate in the ol' brain-box. Think more about how miserable whales are in captivity, and how deeply it will affect them. OH GOD SAD WHALE WILL NEVER LEAVE ME.

Now stop being sad, and enjoy this second fact of the day! YES SECOND! Just because I love you. And because Kristy sent it to me, and it equally deserves mention.

#33: Nine former Irish political prisoners, all initially sentenced to death, after being deported to Australia instead, each became extremely successful, important political heads. 

Srrsly. Check it out, and make lots of horrible "Boy, now that's 'Luck 'o the Irish!'" jokes. Oh wait, I already did it for you. Womp womp. 

In conclusion, a photo study: reminisce of the days of McLovin'. Who is now the Mother-Fucker. Few actors have been branded with such unorthodoxly iconic names as Christopher Mintz-Plasse. But he can take it. Because he's not the star that we want, but the star that Hollywood nee-OKAY I'LL STOP. 

I, too, would want my career to evolve like this. 

Now, to return to the productive activities I've been consuming myself with here in Waterloo. Largely, Crash Bandicoot. Excelsior! 

I am Jack's sleepy airport ruminations

Well then.

5:45am is a fun time. Especially when I've been awake for more than an hour. And went to bed about three hours ago. TWO HOURS OF SLEEP WOOOO.

I've been saving "hung over panda" for a special occasion. Though I'm not hung over, I think this is it. You may yet see him again, if my history of visiting Waterloo stays consistent. 

Does it even count as restful sleep when I had Weezer's "Can't Stop Partying" (yes still) stuck in my head? It seems to be my go-to tune for adding whimsical lyrics of my life to, and I ended up just polluting my head (and Kristy's too) by doing so last night. Dammit Hatch

Airports are fun times too though. On my way back to Waterloo now! Start singing ABBA at your own peril.

...you're doing it now, aren't you? Be honest.

Sigh.

Anyway, the airport news has informed me that today is the anniversary of the big 2003 blackout that all Ontarians still bond over as a rare example where we can pretend we have "natural disasters" and the like. So that's a thing.

Now I'm watching another news report of a new Rob Ford drunken debacle. Apparently there's a cell phone video of him drunk in public, slurring his words and talking about how all he wants to do is party. Maybe he's been hanging out with Weezer too much. At any rate, because the internet is awesome, here's a page of the best Rob Ford gifs. Most of them involve him falling.

And, as a teaser, here's my favourite, due to its sumptuous visual poetry: Rob Ford tripping while dismounting a scale.

Check out the back sweat. Sublime.

At any rate, I'm too tired to dredge up a decent fact today, but I can offer a 'lived experience' one for a change.

#31: Those 'moving sidewalk' dealies in airports are normally still and dormant, but when you stand on it, it detects your presence and starts moving.

WHOA MAN.

Not revolutionary info? Well I DIDN'T KNOW IT at any rate, so I'M IMPRESSED.

Shush.

Now I'm remembering Fight Club, and wondering if I'll have any comparable experiences. I could do without any single serving plane friends. Too tired and cranky. Even for Brad Pitt.

Although, knowing me, I'd probably end up channeling Kristy and having some harsh words about World War Z with him, and you know how that would turn out... 

Quite right, Ed Norton. 

Puzzle me this, puzzle me that

Well, less than two days before returning to Waterloo, and visions of bittersweetness are dancing around my little childish head. Seeing old and dear friends and family? Good! Location shift after a long, fairly stationary summer? Good! This trip basically marking the end of the summer? Bad.

Still, a change of scenery is feeling pretty essential at this point. It's been a pointed effort to not feel stagnant here of late. It doesn't help that I find myself sharing Thor's sentiments more often than not these days:

Despite tonight being a fun time, joining forces and food with old and new FIST crew (or "Dinosaurs" as we've affectionately dubbed ourselves), I find myself feeling a bit maudlin regardless. Perhaps it's because the song "Our House" by Madness just came on my iTunes. Sappy as it is, I always wanted to have that playing when I moved into a new place that I felt was firmly, inexorably a "home" for me - a new place I had coined as comfortably and happily mine. Suffice to say, it has yet to happen. Although I've been quite content and spoiled overall with my housing situations over the past several years, I haven't really had that feeling of true contentment and belonging in a singular place of dwelling since age 14. I find myself starting to get a bit of a deep ache for that sensation whenever I stop to dwell on it enough.

Isn't that funny? I don't often think about semi-permanent housing, but it just tumbled out of my fingertips just now. Apparently it occupies my thoughts more than I'm entirely conscious about. I suppose this is symptomatic of that elusive unicorn known as "growing up". Or something. Blech. 

Anyway, I have unearthed a fact and everything! To quote RDJ's Sherlock, "Observe..."

#30: Jigsaw puzzles were invented to serve as interactive maps, helping to teach geography. 

Specifically, according to Wikipedia, by John Spilsbury in 1760. Now you know. 

I was trying to think of a clever puzzle-related pun, but, for whatever reason, my mind has flashed to Jim Carrey as the Riddler in Batman Forever instead. 

Now that was a pretty wince-worthy unintentional comedy. Tommy Lee Jones. Why. You're so much better off as a sarcastic, scene-stealing Colonel in Captain America: The First Avenger. Gurf.

Why did I have the odd desire to wikipedia puzzles, you ask? Well, because I've decided the time has finally come to work on my Spider-Man puzzle passed on to me by my Dad. He was hoping I could work on it with my Grandpa - now deceased - so there's a bit of sentimental subtext. Also, puzzles are just fun. So yay.

This entry ended up more quietly maudlin than I had hoped, and, as is often the case, will likely misrepresent my mood as being more dour than it actually is. So, to save face, here's a picture of a hippo making friends with a tortoise. Let it warm your hearts, and fill your dreams with visions of sugarplum fairies.

Maybe I just want it to be Christmas....

A.B.C. - Always Believe in uniCorns.

Well, again, I'm up unreasonably late, and blogging in a deliriously overtired state. Somehow my quiet Friday night in with Stanley Kubrick and Peter Sellers turned into yet another 3am. That's what happens when you discover a batshit new Spider-Man show, I suppose. Batshit being the operative word. This is a Spider-Man show that seems to think it's all Deadpool. Or Family Guy. Or something.

At least it's not as weird as this: a team-up between Marvel superheroes and Phineas and Ferb. WHAT IS HAPPENING, WORLD OF CARTOONS?!

Anyway, a curious, odd, not entirely unenjoyable, but definitely imbalanced day. I guess starting off a day with this (sort of?) inspirational article will do that. Perfect potion to make me even more conscious of my gleeful squandering of free time. Because thinking about that roughly every hour isn't sufficient, apparently. I guess I could take the advice of the article and turn my ill feelings into action. Some would doubtlessly consider keeping up(ish) a blog doing so. But... instead I lie in bed and watch a movie about James Mason in love with a child, then cartoons. Such is the way of the Hatch.

Anyway, I've got a particularly fun fact today, courtesy of the always wonderful George Takei. Are you ready to follow instructions from David Tennant? You know you are. So let's go!

The amount of user comments I read that quipped 

"I wish Scotland's national animal was David Tennant" made me smile. 

Didja do it yet? Didja didja didja? 

Well I hope you did, lest this be considered a spoiler. 

#28: Scotland's national animal is... THE UNICORN.

Yup. 

Actually. 

Technically they also have a second, the "red lion". But who cares, because unicorn. 

So there you have it. 

I also discovered that (and hell, I'll call this fact #29) in Iceland, construction permits are often re-routed to accommodate perceived dwelling places of Elves. Kristy particularly enjoyed that one.

Now go! Begone! Go watch Glengarry Glenn Ross, as the Cracked article recommended about a bajillion times. Let it inspire you to do something fulfilling with your life. Honestly though - I don't mean that sarcastically. The article is a pretty potent lead. I mean read. Dammit Alec Baldwin. 

Original name? You gotta earn that.

Bleh. I'm tired and yearn for sleep, but Kristy has forced me to write a blog post, so here I am.

We stayed up until this typically absurd hour examining old pictures of me, which was good for several laughs. Then we managed to unearth a bunch of the video projects made for last year's Film Theory and Gender class, including mine, which I made (basically) entirely by myself. Most cinematography, virtually all acting, all editing. In a day.

I'd show it to you, but, to quote Jeff Bridges in R.I.P.D., as Kristy always does now, and apparently I do too:

"You gotta earn that."

It saddens me that I couldn't find a gif of that, including him cheekily withholding his handshake. Come on internet - get your shit together!

Anyway, in lieu of my endearingly crappy movie, here's Becca's, which I'm in. Shirtless. Coincidentally, it's also far funnier.

Now, if you're still reading through your tears of laughter or pain, you're probably expecting a fact. However - you may have noticed in my elusive tone - I've yet to find one. Time to go do that.

Aha! Kristy has come to my rescue, with some much needed wisdom (particularly since I am apparently currently plagued with my "sleepy eyes", which never lie). So here goes!

#27: There are only ten possibilities of names in Bali, and are each specific to the order of child.

I shit you not. I also did a double take. But this is actually a thing. Here are the options of Balinese names (and here's Wikipedia's impressively clear breakdown, should you require a more in-depth description, which I am too sleepy to provide):

• First born names : Wayan, Putu, Gede, Ni Luh(female only)
• Second born names : Made, Kadek, Nengah
• Third born names : Nyoman, Komang
• Fourth born names : Ketut

Apparently if there is a fifth child, the name choice reverts to Wayan, but now with the addition of "Balik", which means "again" (so, the child is literally named "Wayan Again", demeaningly enough). Otherwise, even within the possibilities of names given the birth order, the name is usually dictated more based on the family's "caste", or class/profession/designation. Also, family names are also not really used by the Balinese, so most rely on abbreviations or nicknames to retain some degree of autonomous identity. 

So, if you visit Bali and happen to notice a remarkable amount of recurring names, that's why. Also, the next time you find yourself whining about not being enough of an individual... count yourself at least a smidge lucky.

Also, count me lucky now too! I've completed a blog post, and earned my right to sleep. Jeff Bridges would be proud.  

Hippos and sprouts and zombies, great Scott!

So, after a very productive, optimistic and reassuring thesis meeting yesterday, and a day spent reading World War Z (Brooks' bit on North Korea best surviving the zombie war is spot on, and the visual of a swarm of zombies eating a whale will now haunt my dreams forever. Thanks man) and swimming at Kits beach, life has been pretty awesome of late, true believers! Enough so that, in lieu of a lot of pseudo-compelling diatribe-y bits or lame-but-hopefully-endearing witticisms, I'm just going to jump straight into some facts.

"FactS, you say?!" you exclaim? Hopefully with a dash of Doc Brown panache, for good measure.

Yes factS. As in plural. As in I love you enough to make up for having not blogged yesterday. Also, because I was fortunate enough to come across two whimsical facts in one day. There you have it.

#25: A man was once hospitalized for eating too many brussel sprouts (thanks to Canmanie for that one).

And...

#26: A hippo once swallowed a dwarf. Accidentally. While yawning. In a circus.

No joke - check this shit out:

There you have it. Thanks to Buzzfeed for that one. Also, you should check out their feature on hippos in general. It is hilarious, and does justice to the insanely homicidal capabilities of hippos - the most adorably ferocious animals on the planet. 

But, as the article is careful to stress, they are extremely cute as babies. Observe - Exhibit A:

Now, off to wash all of the ocean scum, salt, accursed sand and seaweed strands from my happy, swim-tired body, then join the lady for risotto and a completely uncoincidental zombie movie marathon. Ta ta!

S-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-somebody STOP me!

Today, dear readers, I am thinking about snakes.

Why? Because of the tragic death of two boys in New Brunswick, who are believed to have been strangled by a python that escaped from an exotic animal store underneath where they were staying, having slithered up the air ducts. The Globe and Mail has the story here.

This is how my thought process went: "Man, that's incredibly sad, and seems super preventable. I assume there will be an inquiry into the storage and safety of the pet store below, and the owner will probably be charged with negligence and manslaughter. That sucks." Further than that? There was a sense of sad stoicism, an immediate sense of "Well, that's how nature works". Thoughts of Grizzly Man, which I rewatched last week, echoed through my head. Can't blame the snake - that would be unreasonable and juvenile. So it goes, in the timeless words of Kurt Vonnegut.

However, it seems that isn't sufficient for all the torch-bearing, screaming, mouth-foaming people posting in the comments section of the article. Out of all the ones I read having posted this, almost EVERYONE shared in an outcry of "Let this be a lesson to the Federal Government to ban the frivolous keeping of such dangerous animals as pets!"

Really?

But of course! This isn't a stray accident with a terrible outcome, necessitating, perhaps, a reexamination of protocol of keeping any potentially dangerous animals safely - it is the fault of ALL SNAKES EVERYWHERE, and those who keep them are BASICALLY SERIAL KILLERS. Right? Sheesh.

Raving wild animals or raving Canadians banning them?

In a way, this mirrors common debates regarding censorship, and extreme content in popular culture (dammit - I swore this wouldn't circle back to my thesis this time...). There are those who would basically ban all movie violence everywhere forever, and there are those (like myself) who are more in favour of studying its effects on people, why people consume and enjoy such content, how they interact with it, and how to correctly identify potential dangers so audiences and parents (assuming any proactivity in parents... but that's another rant altogether) can judge accordingly.

By extension, if we ban all animals that could potentially be dangerous as pets, what about good ol' "man's best friend"? There are dog attacks every year - should we ban keeping dogs as pets? Better yet, why not kill all of them and render them extinct, on the possibility that one of them in the wild might accidentally injure some poor, defenseless human who wanders into their territory?

Look at this vicious killer. Look at the evil in its malicious eyes.

This is escalating quickly, and will soon turn into 'foot-in-mouth' territory, which is not my favourite place to be. Anyway, you get the idea. It's a very sad circumstance, and people inevitably want a larger-scale scapegoat, and it's all the government's fault. Duh. The end.

So, now that I've been reading a bit about snakes this afternoon, as a break from reading about iconicity and semiotics, here's a fact I pulled up that is sure to haunt your dreams:

#24: Decapitated venomous snake heads can STILL ATTACK YOU.

Yes really. The world is a far scarier place than you or I knew. Here's a video, if you feel like avoiding sleep tonight.

Basically, how this works, according to Cracked.com, from which I purloined this fact, is that the "heat-sensitive pits" on the side of the snake's face continue to detect threats for HOURS after its death, which means the snake head will continue to snap at you if it senses you - ie, if you are close enough to be bitten. Also, it's still poisonous, so it could totally still kill you. And, as Cracked muses, "who the hell loses a fight to a dead animal?"

Good question. Let's outlaw them as pets and kill them all so we never have to find out. Amiright?

The Star Spangled Man with a Plan

Well, today I had a "that moment when your girlfriend has read further into one of your thesis books than you. For fun". Still cool though, and it yielded a rather nifty fact of the day!

#23: Captain America and Spider-Man were used as icons of overt American military propaganda for the Pentagon in 2005.

"No shit Captain America and the military are connected", you might be saying. But in actuality, both characters (especially Spidey) have had quite convoluted and rocky histories with the American military through comics history - again, no surprise, given the outspokenly liberal Marvel comics that was publishing them.

That's not to say that Marvel Comics never engaged in anything patriotic or related to the military. There was a rather heartbreaking (and very tasteful) post-9/11 edition in The Amazing Spider-Man that rather pointedly conflated the world of the comic with 'the real world' (something I've been rather interested in, research-wise, of late).

This general tendency towards military critique doesn't carry through as much in the Marvel movies, largely because, to procure any kind of military funding/props donations for free, having overt anti-military subtext isn't exactly the most welcome. That said, I still feel that most of the Marvel movies engage in an interesting practice of subtle military satire, especially the Iron Man films, and, yes, Captain America: The First Avenger. I dare you to watch the notorious war bonds montage (one of my favourite sequences ever committed to film) and disagree.

But I digress. Back to the fact in question. The following is an excerpt from John Shelton Lawrence's forward to Captain America and the Struggle of the Superhero: Critical Essays, a rather superb book that I'm sure, someday, I will actually read all of.

"[in 2005] Marvel Comics collaborated with the Pentagon to host a patriotic marketing event for the New Avengers line, which would be distributed free to one million troops, as part of the 'America Supports You' campaign. Donald Rumsfeld posed for photos with Spider-Man and Captain America. A child present was quoted as saying, 'It's good for the superheroes to show support for the troops because some kids want to be like their favourite superheroes.' Army Colonel Joe Mudd, from the Joint Chiefs of Staff, commended the appearance of Cap and Spidey, saying, 'Any show of support is important, and people relate to comics... We like the good guys to win, and we think we're the good guys too.' He added that the narratives of popular comics 'speak to what we strive for as individuals and as a nation.'"

Rumsfeld and his "super friends". Ugh.

Yikes. I could - and basically will - write essays (or even a thesis, perhaps?) on the deeper significance of this. As it stands, I'ma just let it speak for itself. Also, I'm extraordinarily tired. Apparently chowing down on six pieces of pizza and a piece of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles birthday cake at Alex's birthday can leave you feeling rather exhausted and sluggish. Never again will I have green fondant. Bleeeerrrgghh.

Paradoxical Pokémon

Link clicking is fun. Look at the fun things I found!

First, there's this, which is fun, if not quite as complex as it thinks it is. Still, it proved good fodder for .gif pilfering for me in the future. Kristy says starting a ".gif file" is the first sign of becoming a successful blogger. Her words, not mine.

Then, I found this, which is thoroughly fun, and worth checking out, if you generally like the same things I do (namely Pokémon and creativity). Here is my favourite. See if you can figure out(you guessed it): "WHO'S THAT POKEMON?!?!?!"

Lastly, butt-punch. Because butt-punch. 

(Mostly) poor Spidey. But also poor Sandman. And, finally, poor comics artist who failed to realize the morbid hilarity of what they accidentally drew. 

Bee-List Lovin'

KRISTY JUST OFFERED TO BUY ME A MANTA RAY AND NOW I'M HOLDING HER TO THAT. Let it be known amongst all of Blogger!

Also, hi.

My quote of the day so far - unintentional in its humour, I might add - was: "If I weren't so lazy, I would... do something." This may as well be ascribed on my tombstone at this rate.

That said, I've actually done a bunch of reading/quote pulling/productive email-answering and the like today in spite of my microscopic attention spa-oh look! A heartwarming whale video! 

Yeah.

Too many oreos have made my mouth all sticky.

But look, faithful padawans! I have unearthed a fact for you, in the midst of my general Hatchery! And it's in pictorial form and everything!

#22:

I found this on Victoria's facebook (so thanks for that Victoria). Her annotation was "I don't know about you, but today has been a rough day for me. Still, it's good to remember that things could be worse. You could have been born a male honeybee, for instance..." Spot on. 

The picture neglects to mention that Mr. Bee's penis also gets stuck inside Mrs. Bee during said coitus. Ouch. 

But, as Jim Carrey puts it here,

"YOU MARRIED HER!"

"That's gotta hurt." 

I love The Mask more than most things on this planet. This is very important to understand about me. Jess gets it. 

So there you have it. Add this to the list of strange or horrifying animal sex habits (Squids still win - so much so that I wrote a play about it!). At least, unlike the anglerfish or praying mantis, no decapitating or absorbing is involved. That's a bit weeeeiiiird. All too applicable to human relationships too. Anglerfish Love Story, the sequel to Cephalopod Love Story, is still going to happen, gosh darn it. But I digress.  

And now, I will leave you wondering who the next Doctor will be (Ben Whishaw - my personal favourite? Peter Capaldi? Some unknown?). Or enjoying this. Y'know - in case you like Sherlock. Or mustaches. Ideally both. 

Octopus, I love you

As a postscript: Kristy and I spent most of yesterday evening youtubing (yes, it's now a verb. Deal with it) videos of humpback whales, manta rays, and other marine life, because that's how we roll. In the midst of it, we discovered this vid, which is destined to become one of my most frequently revisited.

Observe: the wonders of an octopus stealing a guy's video camera and taking it for a joyride.

Then devote more time to listening to the song that plays over the last half of the video. It's called "Octopus, I Love You", and is by Dalmatian Rex and the Eigentones. And it deserves your attention. And love.

Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun

Well, my big excitement of the day was having the incredible presence of mind to download the 'Blogger' app. So now I can blog on the go while I'm off on my amazing daily adventures! Isn't that fantastic?

Woooooo.

Well, I was impressed by my technical 'prowess'. Also, I discovered the number of apps that have to do with whales, including one in which you blow into your phone and it howls out particularly discordant whale sounds back at you. This is what smartphones exist for.

Actually I lied. This is what smartphones exist for:

 (combining the words 'whale' and 'smartphone' in the same two sentences, I couldn't resist)

Jess also sent me 'First Person Sonic the Hedgehog', which I've been amusing myself with for the past while. Check 'er out! 

Actually, I lied twice: my big excitement of the day wasn't downloading apps. I've actually been putting in a lot of work lately, and sortakindamaybealittlebitnotreallybutI'lltakeit figuring things out for my fall work, course schedule, and, in a roundabout way, life after grad school in general. So yay, that's pretty awesome. 

However, I've also been making it more of a personal project to just enjoy things more, without constantly fretting about how I should be doing more. This, naturally, lead me to finally come to terms with my first 'unemployed' summer since age 15, and just enjoy it for what it was. And what it was, looking back on it, was pretty sweet. Very relaxing, very stimulating on numerous fronts, conducive to a bunch of reading and writing, both personally and academically, and privy to a bunch of personal developments, both good and bad. There were sad, stressful, scary and infuriating times, yes. But for the most part, things were blissfully happy and awesome. And it's the latter part I'm trying to concentrate on. 

Most of all, we've had some unprecedentedly kick-ass weather here in Van. Which, as a matter of fact, leads me to my fact 'o the day: 

#21: The record has just been broken (and by just I mean yesterday) for longest sunniest spell in Vancouver in recorded history. 

The Globe and Mail has the story here, but it was Kristy who tipped me off to this, so I have her to thank. The fact that this weather coincides with my current surge towards uncharacteristic optimism is no coincidence.

I just wrote "uncharacteristic optimism", and already have beef with that. I always self-define as a "cynical optimist". The order, however, is very deliberate. I can be extremely cynical - sometimes, as Kelly has called me out on, downright dour - and get sucked into being very down about certain things, small or large scale. That said, I still identify as being an optimist through and through. I genuinely care about an abundance of things - people, first and foremost. I like to think I focus most of my energy on things I love, and I hope that has reflected in this blog. 

I also maintain that the things that bother me do so to such a degree because of my fundamentally optimistic nature. I think it's my propensity to care about things as much as I do that leads me to being disappointed. This is something I'm not satisfied with, and an ongoing project has been learning to let things, and people, go. So far, so... better than ever before. 

So, to reiterate, I AM A HAPPY PERSON.

SEE?! LOOK AT ALL THIS HAPPY.

Well, today's unexpected deluge of rumination and postulating has been brought to you by lack of invigorating caffeine. As a closing note, if you're not already chuckling at me, commence chuckling at James Cameron for assuming people want to watch THREE more Avatar movies. To quote Bugs Bunny, "What a maroon."