The Sean McCallum.com Blog

Music You Should be Listening To...

2010-02-15T23:43:00.003-05:00

My buddy Browner, the SeanMcCallum.com resident music expert, is finally here to weigh in with his picks for the albums of the year. And yes, I know the year in question ended more than 6 weeks ago. But I guess having me complain about the tardiness of his picks (in light of how horrificly inactive this blog has been of late) is a little bit like when the guys in my beer league complain about the quality of the officiating in our 10:30 Wednesday night games: the quality of the officiating is usually equal to the quality of the hockey being played.

In any event, here are Browner's picks. As always, they are beyond solid.

So here's my very belated and half-assed attempt at a best of '09 list.

I should start with a disclaimer. 2009 was a year in which I completely retreated into my own little bubble. I probably listened to a grand total of less then 5 hours of commercial radio this year and I can't think of a single artist that I discovered that way. As a result my favourite albums of the year are heavily skewed towards the sources that I surround myself with... which is to say most of them aren't on the Billboard charts and you'll find almost as much cancon here as you will on the CBC. Having said that, I still don't feel like I missed much. Even reviewing other best of lists there did not seem to be any consensus picks this year (eg. Radiohead- In Rainbows '07, Kings of Leon- Only By The Night '08). The hip blogs seemed to coalesce around Animal Collective and Grizzly Bear, but those didn't do it for me. And the more mainstream publications played it very safe with well established artists (Really? One of Springsteen's weakest albums coming in at #2? And U2 at #1? Is it possible they just mislabeled Achtung Baby on their ipods?)

Anyway, without further ado, here's what I did come up with:

10. Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson- Summer of Fear

Warbling vocals layed over loose, quiet rock that plods along and builds intensity.

Check Out: Summer of Fear pt. 2

9. Still Life Still- Girls Come Too

This is the type of music that should have come after the grunge era- the same vitality and urgency, but more complex and subtle musically.

Check out: Pastel

8. Silversun Pickups- Swoon

A bit of a throwback to the early '90's, but still manages to sound fresh.

Check out: There's No Secrets This Year

7. The Wooden Sky- If I Don't Come Home You'll Know I'm Gone

Atmospheric and contemplative folk rock.

Check out: (Bit Part)

6. Dan Mangan- Nice, Nice, Very Nice

Charismatic Vancouver singer/songwriter walks a line between folk and pop.

Check out: Road Regrets

5. The Antlers- Hospice

This record reminds me of Bon Iver. Intensely personal, beautiful, and intricate.

Check Out: Two

4. Timber Timbre- Timber Timbre

Haunting and completely captivating bluesy folk songs.

Check out: Demon Host

3. Tegan and Sara- Sainthood

Is Sainthood as good as The Con? No. Were the '07 Patriots as good as the '72 Dolphins? No. Were they worth watching? See what I'm getting at here?

Check out: Hell

2. The Rural Alberta Advantage- Hometowns

Heartfelt, energetic acoustic folk rock by a band named for Alberta that had the good sense to move to Toronto.

Check out: Frank, AB

1. Metric- Fantasies

I wasn't even a Metric fan before this album. This is the definition of taking it to a new level.

Check out: Gimme Sympathy

Honourable mention: Bahamas- Pink Strat, Wilco- Wilco (The Album), Monsters of Folk- Monsters of Folk, Gaslight Anthem- The '59 Sound, Phoenix- Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, Brandi Carlile- Give Up The Ghost

Bonus Tracks:

Here are a few of seanmccallum.com's favourites from the past 365 days:

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros - "Up From Below"

Check out: Home, Janglin

Harlem - "Free Drugs" (Album title of the Year?)

Check out: South of France

King Khan and the Shrines - "The Supreme Genius of King Khan and The Shrines"

Check out: Welfare Bread, Land of the Freak (from "What Is?"), Torture,

The Almighty Defenders - "The Almighty Defenders"

I think their Wikipedia bio pretty well speaks for itself:

The Almighty Defenders is a postmodern gospel rock supergroup consisting of members from the Black Lips and The King Khan & BBQ Show. The band was formed in February 2009 in Berlin, Germany.

History

On the Black Lips' 2009 tour of India, following an incident at a rowdy show in which Cole Alexander kissed fellow bandmember Ian St. Pe and exposed his private parts on-stage, the Lips fled the country while rumors of their arrests circulated the internet. The tour was canceled and the group members fled to the residence of King Khan (musician), who was living in Berlin at the time. Over the course of eight days, in a typically booze-sloppy Black Lips fashion, they laid down 11 tracks with Khan and his King Khan & BBQ Show bandmate Mark Sultan. On June 17, the full group made its live debut, performing a set in choir robes at the North by Northeast festival, and Vice Records made plans to release the Almighty Defenders' self-titled debut on September 22, 2009.

Check out: Cone of Light

Deer Tick - "Born on Flag Day"

Check out: Easy, Smith Hill

Bad Veins - "Bad Veins"

Check out: The Lie, Go Home (my favourite song in the world this month)

Tiny Vipers - "Life on Earth"

Check out: Dreamer (runaway favourite for "breakup song of the year")

Brett Favre

2010-01-26T00:28:00.003-05:00

Unabashed homerism generally results in terrible play-by-play... except when it goes horribly wrong.

This is one of the best calls I've ever heard.

Thanks to Flats for the clip.

Long May You Run...

2010-01-23T14:45:00.003-05:00

This might have been the single greatest latenight musical performance in history.

Coupled with the giant ground sloth's skeleton spraying Beluga caviar on an original Picasso, and Conan's class at handling an impossible situation, this was one of the finest hours of television I have ever seen.

Long may you run, Conan. Long may you run...

Cliff Clavin on Jeopardy

2010-01-12T00:23:00.005-05:00

So there I was, spending some quality time with my Grandma tonight. We'd just finished dinner and were sitting by the fire, taking in an entertaining and intellectually stimulating half-hour of America's Favourite Quiz Show, when I somehow experienced a 'Nam-like flashback to the single greatest moment in gameshow history: Cliff Clavin's answer on Final Jeopardy.

For those who are too young to remember, here it is in all of it's splendour.

By the way, is it possible that I somehow forgot how glorious Alex Trebek's moustache was? Shame on me...

In a related story, here's a link to an article about TV's Greatest Moustaches. Oh November, how I long for you...

Alomar Snubbed in HOF Voting

2010-01-06T14:36:00.004-05:00

From ESPN.com

NEW YORK -- Andre Dawson was elected to the Hall of Fame, while Bert Blyleven and Roberto Alomar fell just short of earning baseball's highest honor.

Dawson, nicknamed "The Hawk," received 420 of 539 votes in voting announced Wednesday by the Baseball Writers' Association of America, 15 more than the 75 percent necessary to gain election.

The eight-time All-Star, appearing on the ballot for the ninth time, had fallen 44 votes short last year.

Blyleven had 400 votes, up from 338 last year, and likely will get in, what with two more tries on the BBWAA ballot.

Alomar received 397 votes in his first appearance, and was followed by Jack Morris with 282.

This is a travesty. Roberto Alomar was a 12-time all-star, the best middle infielder of his era, and the best player on 2 World Series winning teams. He should have been a no-brainer first ballot guy.

A complete joke.

Jeff Blair's take is solid. Check it out HERE.

Avatar + 3-D = Ayahuasca Experience

2010-01-05T17:17:00.004-05:00

OK. Full disclosure.

When I saw the trailer for Avatar last month, I said to my wife: "That looks like the single worst movie ever made. You couldn't pay me to go see that."

(In fact, after watching this trailer again, I stick by those words. That trailer makes this look like the worst movie of all-time)

But when you spend prolonged stretches of time in Peru, your choices of movies playing in the theatre are somewhat limited (most are either gruesome terror movies or dubbed-over cartoons). And one of my guilty pleasures in life is going to the movies and scarfing down popcorn and slugging back a gallon of Inca Kola. And also... I've never seen a movie in 3-D, and I've always secretly longed to put on a pair of those funky glasses.

And so it was. I went to see Avatar last night. And I loved it.

Yes, it was highly entertaining. Yes, it had a wonderful message. Yes, it was a convincing critique of latter-day imperialism. And yes, it was a stunning visual accomplishment, particularly in 3-D.

But above everything else, the reason I loved Avatar was because for stretches of the movie, I felt like I was under the influence of Ayahuasca.

For real.

There were so many aspects of this movie that drew upon the ayahuasca experience that upon immediately leaving the theatre, I first hugged a tree (literally), and then proclaimed that I'd be willing to bet anything that the person who wrote that script (James Cameron, apparently) has worked with ayahuasca.

From the way the lead character enters the mind and body of his avatar (laying down and fading into a trance-like state), to the flourescent trippy night-time colours enveloping everything, to the indecipherability between the two worlds, how the Na'vi people connect with nature, the healing powers of nature, and how the Na'vi people are able to communicate with the spirits of all things living past and present... Everything points to the types of things you see, feel, and experience while working with ayahuasca. Hell, even the giant tree that the Na'vi people live in resembles a gigantic ayahuasca vine.

So if you have ever wondered what it was like to experience the effects of ayahuasca, but, you know... you didn't want to travel to the Amazon for 9 days and drink a vile liquid that would ultimately make you feel like you were dying... Checking out Avatar in 3-D might be your best bet for a poor man's rendition.

But as they say, there's no substitute for the real thing.

NFL Relegation

2010-01-03T11:42:00.003-05:00

Vs.

At some point during the Buffalo Bills - Cleveland Browns Week 5 matchup earlier this year (a 6-3 Browns win which was easily one of the worst professional sporting events I've ever witnessed), my buddy Dinner texted me with the following revelation: "These two teams belong in the CFL".

And though Cleveland and Buffalo have managed to "turn their seasons around"; meaning that they're no longer in the running for the worst team in the league; the idea of an NFL relegation system has stuck with me for the duration of this football season. (You see, these are the things that happen when you are a Bills fan. Any hope of a playoff berth is gone after the first month of the season, so you're forced to think about other things in order to keep your sanity. This sad reality is great for creative purposes; not so great for the well-being of your liver).

As we all know, Week 17 in the NFL can be a pretty uneventful day. Most of the playoff spots are locked up, most of the playoff teams are happy with their seeding and are consequently content to rest most of their starters, and most fantasy leagues have awarded their heavyweight championship belt by the end of Week 16. Furthermore, any team with a shot at landing the #1 pick in the NFL draft; particularly in a draft year which includes a legitimate no-brainer stud pick like Ndamukong Suh; is doing everything they can to ensure that they keep that pick.

So how do you make today's 49ers-Rams (1-14) and Bears-Lions (2-13) games more interesting?

Relegation.

Meaning that the team with the worst record in the NFL plays in the CFL next year.

Think about it: how much harder do these guys play if they know that a loss means they'll be playing half their games in places like Regina, Saskatchewan, and Edmonton, Alberta next year? (Today's gametime temperature in each city: -14 degrees)

And don't tell me that the idea of an NFL team playing in the CFL isn't feasible. Because if Major League Baseball can have interleague play with different rules based on where the game is being played (let alone a World Series in which the rules shift from game to game!), there's no reason that the Rams couldn't play in a league where their road games featured more real estate, 3 downs, and 12 men on the field... And if you don't think the CFL players would be chomping at the bit to try to prove themselves at the Edward Jones Dome, playing by NFL rules against guys making 10 times more money than them, then you're kidding yourself.

But perhaps what is most intriguing about this potential scenario is the thought of seeing the winner of the Grey Cup each year getting their shot to play with the big boys in the NFL. How great would it be to see Larry Fitzgerald and the Arizona Cardinals playing at Molson Stadium... in December! Or better yet, if the Rams were somehow able to beat the 49ers today, it would set up a potential 1-game relegation play-in game between the Rams and the Lions (don't kid yourself: the ratings for this game would be through the roof). And if the Rams were somehow able to beat the Lions in this play-in game, the 2009 Grey Cup Champion Montreal Alouettes would be slotted into the NFC North, meaning that the likes of the Vikings, Packers, and Bears would be paying a visit to Montreal next year.

There's literally nothing about a CFL-NFL relegation system that doesn't improve each of the respective leagues, and more importantly, the weekly on-field action.

Of course, the obvious argument is that a CFL team wouldn't stand a chance in an NFL stadium. But is a potentially putrid Alouettes team really going to by that much worse to watch than an already putrid Rams team? And furthermore, I'd argue that the homefield advantage of the CFL team, playing with 3 downs and 12 players, would be enough to make up for much of the discrepancy in talent.

As for that discrepancy in talent, you need look no further than the stats of Ricky Williams to determine that the gap probably isn't as great as you might think. In 2006 with the Argos, Williams rushed for 526 yards on 109 carries (4.8 avg.) with 2 TDs. This year with the Dolphins (through 15 games), Williams has rushed for 1090 yards on 229 carries (4.8 avg.) with 11 TDs.

Throw the CFL team a percentage of the relegated NFL team's TV revenue (in 2008, each NFL team received $77 million in National TV revenue alone - 25% of that money would make a world of difference to a CFL franchise, allowing them to sign some key NFL free agents for the upcoming year), and there's no reason that, financially speaking, a relegation system couldn't work. So is it time to revisit the NFL-CFL Co-Operative Agreement, and to put the EPL idea of NFL Relegation on the table? I say yes. Absolutely.

As for getting NFL teams to agree to playing a year (at least) north of the border? That would be another story.

But for the time being, it's a wonderful idea to ponder: a world in which the Grey Cup Champion earns a shot at the big boys in the NFL, and the Rams and Lions Week 17 games have more meaning and intensity than any game either franchise has played in the past 5 years.

Pics of the Year

2010-01-02T13:53:00.013-05:00

Windy City Winter Classic

Dark side selling out...

For donuts...?

The Big Winner

The Bigger Winner

Cat in Pirate's Alley

Wedding

Romance

The opposite of Romance

Santonio

Super Boss

Heisman Hopeful

Sully

Sunset

Team Canada

Touche

Dirty Dancing

Salt Flats

Party at Mario's

Nice Move

Nice Shirt

Nice Kid

We're #2

We're #1

Monumental

Moment of Truth...

The 'Noch

The Doc

Caught Looking

Nobody likes one

Best Man Sandwich

Rainy Day

4 months away...

The secret to longevity...

...is exercise...

...happiness...

...hope...

...perspective...

...vision...

...throwing caution to the wind...

... and Love

Bob Dylan and James Brown had a baby...

2009-12-30T19:41:00.002-05:00

This is magical.

The only thing better than Jon Stewart is the man himself. There's no doubt that he belongs right there: next to Barack and the First Lady.

Thanks to Deeve for the hookup.

Christmas Eve Diversion

2009-12-23T19:06:00.002-05:00

For those of you stuck in the office on this Christmas Eve, here are some things to help get you through to that first sip of rum and egg nog. As always, here is some of the best stuff I've come across over the past few weeks.

Simmons-Klosterman Podcast - Part 1 Part 2

Bill Simmons and Chuck Klosterman weigh in on all things pop culture, including Tiger Woods (I absolutely love Klosterman's idea for how E.T. can reinvent himself), Bruce Springsteen, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Albums of the decade, and NFL teams going undefeated.

This American Life - #1 Party School

Another pod cast. The Chicago Public Radio staff pay a visit to State College, PA, in order to shed some light on what goes into making a particular institute of higher learning the #1 party school in the U.S.A.

Doc's Classy Farewell

I haven't had a chance to comment on the Doc Halladay trade to this point, and there really isn't much I can add that most people don't already know. Roy Halladay was the best pitcher to ever don a Jays cap, and for my money, I can't ever remember a classier, more likable athlete in the City of Toronto. For too many years, the best pitcher in baseball toiled away on a less-than-mediocre team, watching brilliant pitching performances be squandered by inept offences and questionable managerial decisions; if he was pitching for a contender, he'd no doubt have another 2 Cy Young awards to his credit. The fact that he placed that add in the Toronto Sun this week should come as no surprise to anyone who had the honour of watching this man pitch for this team for the past 8 years.

For so many years, the Doc deserved better than the Jays were able to give him. Here's hoping that he finally receives the type of team he deserves, and I look forward to cheering him on to the NL Cy Young and a World Series trophy in the coming years.

As for the Jays, Alex Anthopolous deserves a great deal of credit for bringing in some serious prospects. I'm looking forward to this team rebuilding with a GM who appears to have some semblance of an idea of what he's doing. The following two pieces illustrate nicely exactly what the Jays are getting in return for Leroy:

So It's Done - Mike Wilner (Thanks to Flats for the link)

Of Unselfish Decisions and Restocked Systems - Joe Sheehan (Thanks to Llibs for the link)

Women worse at parking than men, study shows - Matthew Moore

Really, this one comes as no surprise.

Thanks to Rosco for the link.

And finally, it wouldn't be the holidays without Clark Griswold blowing a gasket. Merry F'n Christmas from everyone here at seanmccallum.com

Friday Diversion

2009-12-04T01:18:00.000-05:00

What the hell?... I thought we'd retired this gimmick? I guess if I'm going to start blogging again, I might as well bring back this forum's most popular segment. By the way, what does it say about your skills as a writer when people start randomly emailing you and saying, "Dude, I know you're busy, but I need that weekly slop load of links to things you didn't write." Yep, the price of fame... As always, here is some of the best stuff I've come across over the course of the past... well, the past little while.

The 20 Best Live Acts of The Decade (2000-2009)
By Paste Magazine

Paste Magazine compiles it's list of the 20 best live acts of the past 10 years, complete with stellar video footage (the Badlands clip from Pinkpop is off the charts). More than a few dotcomrade favourites are included, although I have to say, #2 is a bit of a head-scratcher for me. Am I just too uncool to get The Flaming Lips?

Thanks to Browner for the hook-up.

Scenes From a Book Tour
By Bill Simmons

I found this piece to be incredibly entertaining... Maybe because I'm totally jealous, but still.

One other Simmons note. This particular piece of pop culture genius from an otherwise ordinary mailbag needs to be reprinted here:

Q: What do you think would be the most awkward but (somewhat) realistic casting for a romantic comedy? I'm going with Maggie and Jake Gyllenhaal.-- Matan B., Riverside
SG: After consulting with the Mailbag Committee, my rankings look like this:

7. Mike Tyson and Robin Givens.

6. Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston; Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez (tie).

5. Jack Nicholson and Megan Fox.

4. Chris Brown and Rihanna. Sorry. But it would be remarkably awkward.

3. The Gyllenhaals. I like this idea because, once and for all, it would take the whole "Look, I am an actor and even though I am passionately making out with my same-sex co-star right now, it's only because I am playing a role and not feeling any actual passion" concept to another level. Let's say you wrote an amazing script called "Adopted By Love," in which two people were engaged but didn't realize that the girlfriend was given up for adoption as a baby by the parents of the boyfriend. And let's say you offered the Gyllenhaals $60 million combined to play the lead roles and even make out a few times. If actors are always "acting" -- like Jake did with Heath Ledger in "Brokeback Mountain" -- how is this different? You're an actor! Would I want to see this? Of course not. I'd throw up. But still, it's acting!

2. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes.

1. A romantic comedy in which John Stamos falls in love with two twins at the same time and neither of the twins knows the other likes Stamos ... and the twins are played by Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. Name me anyone who has ever seen "Full House" who wouldn't be cringing. I can't handle it. Let's just move on; my skin is crawling. You know this would be traumatic since I'd rather see the Gyllenhaals make out.

We love you, this won't change a thing
By John Buccigross

The heartwarming story of Brendan Burke telling his dad that he is gay.

Thanks to Flats for the piece.

Letterman writer, Hold Steady singer in a dream/weird/promising collaboration
By Steven Zeitchik

Tom Ruprecht and Craig Finn writing the screenplay to Chuck Klostermann's Fargo Rock City? Sign me up.

Thanks to Browner for the link.

The Kobe Special

2009-12-02T12:21:00.005-05:00

Urban Dictionary's word of the day for December 2, 2009:

December 2: Kobe Special

A large gift a man gives to his wife to appease her after he's had an affair. After sleeping with another women, Kobe Bryant bought his wife a ring that cost as much as a large house.

Tiger: "I have to run to Zales to get a Kobe Special."

Friend: "What's that?"

Tiger: "A house on a finger."

I have refrained from commenting on the Tiger Woods "story" because quite simply, it isn't even worth talking about. Some athletes cheat on their wives. It's unfortunate. It's immoral. It's wrong. But what it isn't, is newsworthy.

But if E.T. (Eldrick Tont) goes out and buys his wife a Kobe Special, is that blog worthy? You bet your ass it is. Stay tuned.

K'naan's "Wavin' Flag" named Official World Cup 2010 Theme Song

2009-12-02T00:53:00.008-05:00

From CBC:

A remixed version of Wavin' Flag, a song by Somalia-born Canadian hip hop artist K'Naan, is the official song of a World Cup trophy tour currently traversing through Africa.

Wavin' Flag: The Celebration Mix is a remix of the original track off K'Naan's third album, Troubadour, released earlier this year.

K'Naan, currently on tour in Africa with the World Cup trophy, was born Keinan Abdi Warsame in Somalia in 1978 before moving to the U.S. and relocating to Toronto. His name, K'naan, means "traveller" in the Somali language...

It is no secret that I don't particularly enjoy the game of soccer. It's horrendous to watch for long stretches, the diving makes me sick to my stomach, and as my buddy Rosco put it: "How can anyone watch something where the most exciting play is a guy missing the net?" Furthermore, Chuck Klosterman, in his brilliant George Will vs. Nick Hornby, makes the most compelling argument for why soccer sucks.

But with that being said, I'm a sucker for events in which the best in the world are competing, particularly when I'm mercifully subjected to that particular competition only once every four years. Case in point: Olympic Boblsedding.

But next year's World Cup might be a different story. Because having local phenom K'naan prominently involved will certainly help to keep me tuned in.

To say that this is a career-altering break is an epic understatement. The kid has come a long way since playing in the basement of The Drake Hotel during NxNE 2005 (one of the all-time tour-de-force acoustic hip hop performances, for the record).

The Opposite of "Pocket Presence"

2009-12-02T00:20:00.005-05:00

I won't lie to you: that first clip is one of the greatest things I've ever seen. I mean, is there any doubt that that confounded looking kid standing there holding the ball was born to play quarterback? The kid is like a 6 year old Peyton Manning, feeling the pressure of the pocket collapsing around him and instinctively moving out of harm's way without even having to think about it... only the exact opposite. He literally has no idea what's coming.

The fact that he immediately starts bawling sends this clip into the stratosphere.

As for the Offensive Line on that play: that's the worst blown assignment I've seen since Billy Bob got his cat scanned.

Speaking of Billy Bob... What the fuck?!?!

Thanks to Mike D for the clip.

The SantaLand Diaries

2009-12-01T00:01:00.003-05:00

It is December 1st, which means that the Leafs are firmly entrenched in last place, the Bills are beginning to play well just as they've been all but mathematically eliminated from the playoffs, and it gets dark outside at 4:30 pm. Yes, it certainly is the most wonderful time of year.

And with that frame of mind, David Sedaris brings you "The SantaLand Diaries". First aired in 1992 for NPR, this is the story of a 33-year old man accepting a job as an Elf in Macy's SantaLand. The fact that that particular Elf would go on to be one of America's greatest writers only adds to the utter despondency and pessimistic brilliance of the piece. Ebenezer Scrooge himself couldn't have painted a more depressing picture.

Public Service Announcement - How To Get Married in Peru

2009-11-29T14:03:00.008-05:00

Editor's Note: This blog has sucked for the past 2 months. It's indefinsible, I know. I'm hoping that the next two entries will go a long way in explaining why. By no means will this excuse the recent lacklustre performance by the staff here, but please: have mercy on us. Guyland has been on death row.

Step 1 - Find the Right Girl

Of all of the legal and logistical hoops one has to jump through in order to get married in Peru, in a million years, I never would have thought that finding the right girl would be the easy part.

And believe me, meeting the right girl isn't easy. Particularly when you consider the fact that you could travel anywhere in the world at any given time of the year, and that you could stay in about 1,000 different hostels in Lima but somehow managed to stumble into that particular hostel on the one day that happened to be her first day on the job, multiplied by the continental/cultural/and language differences, and you begin to understand what a tightrope act of fate you're dealing with here.

And yet still, in looking back at everything involved in marrying a Peruana in Peru? This was the easy part.

Step 2 - Propose

But try to be a man about it. Yeah that's right. Real Humphrey Bogart type stuff... Wait, how do I even know about this clip?

Step 3 - Choose a Location

I know, that seems pretty obvious. But if you're getting married in Lima, you should know that the city has 43 different Districtos, and each Municipalidad has it's own set of rules, regulations, and obligatory bureaucratic procedures that must be strictly adhered to. This is where the nightmare begins.

We chose to get married at Costa Verde in Barranco. Here is the official list of requirements for a Civil Service in the Municipalidad de Barranco. It seems straightforward enough. It is infinitely more complicated.

Step 4 - Obtain Documents from Ontario Government

Bahahahaha... As every Canadian citizen knows, dealing with any level of Government is a nightmare. This proved to be no exception.

To try to circumvent the impending disaster, I went directly to the Peruvian Consulate in Toronto and asked what they felt would be the most efficient way to obtain the necessary documents (in this case, what I needed as a foreigner was: an original copy of my birth certificate; a certificate of bachelorhood; a valid passport). I already had the valid passport, so this figured to be a piece of cake.

As you might guess, it was the exact opposite. I ordered the birth certificate online. It cost $35.00 and arrived by mail within 15 business days. All things considered, this was a success. I even had this shiny new birth certificate with me when I went into the Peruvian Consulate so they could legalize it. The dude working there said I didn't need to do that. This was getting easier by the day.

The only thing left to do was to obtain a certificate of bachelorhood. Seeing as there is no such thing as a certificate of bachelorhood in the Province of Ontario, this would prove to be a little more challenging.

The man at the Peruvian Consulate gave me the number of someone at Service Ontario, and assured me that I would be properly sorted out.

Sure enough, when I called Service Ontario and explained my story (I needed to have all of my documents legalized and in-hand within 3 weeks, as that was when I was heading back down to Lima for my nuptials), the gentleman informed me that this would be no problem. He said that I just needed to obtain a "Search Marriage" document, and that this would serve as the "Certificate of Bachelorhood". He told me that the fastest way to receive this particular document was to fax in my application.

This seemed strange to me because I was pretty sure that fax machines became obsolete at approximately the same time as Marky Mark's hip hop career, but still: if this reputable government official was telling me that a fax was the way to go, then who was I to argue?

Of course, this reputable government official couldn't have been more wrong. When I phoned Service Ontario to follow up on the status of my inquiry, the person on the other end of the line literally laughed aloud when I told her that I had faxed my application. Apparently, a faxed application takes 8-12 weeks. I was leaving in 12 days.

She advised me to go to the Service Ontario outlet on Bay Street and to bring all of my proof of urgency documents (plane ticket, receipt from the wedding venue etc.). I did so, and the guy said that he'd do his best to have it back to me in 10 business days. When I explained that I didn't have 10 business days, he advised me to speak to my local MPP.

Cue Tony Ruprecht's office. I was on the phone with them every day for a week and a half, trying everything I could to expedite this document. 2 days before I was scheduled to fly to Lima, they phoned to advise me that the document was complete. Perfect. I told the secretary: "Have them fedex it to me overnight. I don't care what it costs."

You will find this unbelievable, but the Ontario Government refuses to send documents via any means other than Canada Post. There was a long silence on my end of the line.

I asked where the office was located, and could I pick up the document in person. "Thunder Bay".

Fuck me.

The document arrived at my house 2 days after I'd left. My brother is a saint and took it to the Peruvian Consulate for me, waited around for 3 hours, had it legalized, and then Fedexed it to me in Lima. To get this single piece of paper to me wound up costing over $200.

But this was only the beginning.

(By the way, obtaining this same document in Peru involves standing in a line for approximately 10 minutes and receiving the document on site. The entire procedure costs approximately 5 dollars)

Step 5 - Have Birth Certificate Legalized by Municipality in Lima

When I tried to do this, they told me that my birth certificate needed to be stamped by the Peruvian Consulate in Toronto. I told them that the consulate in Toronto said they didn't need to do that. It didn't matter.

As a result, I had to spend a morning at the Canadian Embassy, getting my birth certificate stamped there. When I returned to the Municipality in Barranco, they stamped the birth certificate, but charged me an extra fee because my certificate was stamped at the Embassy instead of the Consulate in Toronto. Whatever.

Moral of the story? Have everything stamped by the Peruvian Consulate in Toronto. Don't take NO for an answer.

Step 6 - Take an STD Test

Ummm... Yeah. We both got tested for syphilis. You can't get married in Barranco without taking this test. The test and the ensuing red tape in receiving the results and the certificate took 3 days.

Let's just say that we were both pretty happy with the results. Let's move on.

Step 7 - Have Certificate of Bachelorhood Legalized by Municipality in Lima

This was the gong show to end all gong shows. After waiting for this document to arrive from Canada (after having already gone through the bureaucratic equivalent of the five stages of hell), we had to take it to the Ministerio in Central Lima to have it approved. This process takes 24 hours. So we returned the next day, only to learn that this particular document; despite the fact that it had already been stamped by the consulate in Toronto as an "official" certificate of bachelorhood; needed to be translated into Spanish by an official translator. We did this, and then returned it to the Ministerio. Then both documents needed another stamp. This would take yet another 24 hours, and of course, each one of these steps and stamps costs money.

Only after this document had had more government hands on it than Ashley Dupre were we finally able to take it back to the Municipalidad in Barranco.

Step 8 - Prove You Live in the Municipality You're Getting Married In

In a laundry list of absurdities, this was by far the most ridiculous. Apparently, if you want to be married in a civil service in Barranco, you have to prove that you live in that municipality. So even though I was having all of my Canadian documents stamped 37 different times by everyone in the Peruvian Government and it was the most obvious thing in the world that I didn't live in Peru (let alone Barranco), we still had to give a sworn affidavit; complete with index-fingerprint, Iraqi-voting style; that we lived at the address we claimed (we used the address of the hostel we met at and provided a water bill for approximately 20 times what any normal water bill would be).

I won't even go into the detail of what we had to go through to eventually get this passed. All I will say is that it took 3 days and multiple visits to the Notary Republic, and for much of the time it appeared as though we would not be allowed to be married. I'm still not even sure how it was resolved, but apparently it was.

Step 9 - Announce in Local Paper Your Intentions to Marry at least 10 Days Before Your Wedding

And this is the kicker. Because all of this riduculous red tape needs to be fought through and every menial task needs to be completed at least 10 days before your wedding date so that the appropriate add can be taken out in the paper.

The idea behind this public announcement is that it will allow enough time for those with objections to state those objections prior to the event. The irony behind this is that the announcement is placed in this paper that approximately 17 people read, and the chances of anyone you know ever coming across it are almost nil.

My favourite part of the entire newspaper add ordeal is that after everything we went through to get official documents in hand, fedexed, stamped, translated, re-stamped, and then stamped again; after all of this, the municipality somehow managed to get the announcement wrong... Really? How is that even possible?

Step 10 - Book the Date with the Municipality

Not until all of your paperwork is submitted (we were able to submit the announcement to the newspaper at 4:30 pm on the last possible day) and you bring in a copy of the newspaper the next morning, can you finally request and presumably reserve the civil servant to conduct the service at your wedding.

So what I'm saying is that I had 20 friends and family members with plane tickets from Canada already booked and paid for, and we weren't able to actually lock down a date with the person who was marrying us until 9 days before our wedding... But no pressure. Really.

We spent 8 full days running around Lima trying to get all of this paperwork done, so keep this in mind if you're a foreigner planning on marrying a Peruana. It was one of the most stressful episodes I've ever had to endure, and I wouldn't wish it upon any couple already dealing with the stress of trying to plan a wedding and while simultaneously trying to get things in line for the impending invasion of family and friends...

There's an obvious joke in here about how this nightmare scenario is a metaphor for married life, but I won't go there just yet. You can expect some of those jokes in tomorrow's entry.

Lucky Touch

2009-10-20T23:34:00.002-04:00

How is it possible that this rendition of "Better Days" hasn't surfaced until just now? This is an absolutely killer version of this great track, recorded in Stockholm, Sweden in May of 1993. This is an underrated tune from an underrated album... Which reminds me...

The Human Touch/Lucky Town, non-E Street era in Springsteenology tends to take a lot of flack. And I get it: this isn't the E Street Band. It's just not the same.

But that's not to say that there isn't some great stuff from those two albums (of course, that isn't to say that there is some downright terrible stuff on those albums as well {cowering from impending lightning bolt}... Because let's be honest: Pony Boy? Really? Not The Boss's finest moment).

But not surprisingly, like all great works, the Human Touch/Lucky Town albums have aged beautifully. In fact, you could argue that they sound better today than ever before. My only wish was that Bruce hadn't watered some of those great tracks down by combining them with obviously inferior efforts. In fact, had he put his mind to it, he could have released one absolutely killer record.

And not that I would ever second guess The Boss, but I've taken the liberty of recreating that album for you here. It is titled (obviously) Lucky Touch.

Tracks:

1 - Better Days
2 - Lucky Town
3 - Man's Job
4 - Leap of Faith
5 - Roll of The Dice
6 - The Big Muddy
7 - Living Proof
8 - Human Touch
9 - Book of Dreams
10 - Red Headed Woman (didn't actually appear on either album but clearly should have)
11 - My Beautiful Reward
12 - I Wish I Were Blind
13 - With Every Wish
14 - If I Should Fall Behind

Editor's Note:

This scenario only works on the provision that all omitted songs are released as a 5th disc on the Tracks release in 1998. Obviously, I'm not lobbying for less Springsteen music... Just better decisions where forcing material into the marketplace is concerned (see: 2/3rds of Working On A Dream)

Will Hoge

2009-10-13T01:10:00.002-04:00

John Landau once famously wrote: "I have seen Rock and Roll's future... And it's name is Bruce Springsteen" (you can read part of that review HERE)

And of course, to paraphrase that brilliant Landau quote would be to drastically overstate it; and by no means would I ever go so far as to declare Will Hoge the next Bruce Springsteen... but you can't help but see glimpses of an early, inspired Springsteen in this guy. Just fantastic stuff.

Check you his MySpace page HERE.

Thanks to Lisa McCallum for the tip.

Happy Thanksgiving

2009-10-12T13:28:00.001-04:00

Gobble! Gobble!

(Yes, I know this blog has sucked for the past few months... Excuses and explanations to follow)

World's Best Kisser

2009-09-23T18:06:00.003-04:00

Bubbles the dog.

How drunk do you have to be to let this happen? I mean, I've made a few regrettable, drunken decisions in my day (shuddering as I experience 'Nam-like flashbacks to the 12th grade...), but everybody knows if you're gonna hook up with someone that your friends might not approve of, you have to at least take it to a dark and borrowed bedroom, don't you? It's hooking up 101 as far as I'm concerned...

Thanks to Q-ball for the link.

Bruce Springsteen is 60...

2009-09-23T17:39:00.002-04:00

So you're scared and you're thinkin' that maybe we ain't that young anymore...

What can you say about The Boss that hasn't already been written in this forum? He is quite simply the greatest there ever was, and the greatest there ever will be.

Happy 60th to Bruce Frederick Springsteen...

Fred Cusick and Bobby Orr

2009-09-18T18:23:00.002-04:00

What would you give to be able to watch Bobby Orr play in his prime? I know a lot of the dotcomrades out there are old enough to have witnessed the greatest Blueliner to ever lace'em up; but I have to say, there isn't a YouTube montage of Bobby Orr that I come across that doesn't leave me shaking my head in complete and utter disbelief.

How was it ever possible for a Defenceman to play hockey the way he did? Simply breathtaking.

It should be noted that I came across this clip courtesy of The Sports Guy, who had a beautiful obituary for the late, great Fred Cusick at the end of his most recent column, the contents of which can be read below:

From the time I was little through my mid-20s, Fred Cusick announced Bruins games and began to feel like a member of my family after a while. One of my first TV memories was Bobby Orr going coast-to-coast as Cusick narrated the play, getting more and more excited and finally finishing with a "Scooooooooooooooooore! Bobby Orr!!!" Every kid in Massachusetts played street hockey and screamed that out after every goal. Fred and Bobby were like peanut butter and jelly. Someone even made a YouTube montage about them called "SCORE! BOBBY ORR!"

Fred's style was part Vin Scully and part Gus Johnson: perfect pipes and the ability to rise to the occasion for big moments. He had different levels of excitement, with my favorite being the "Yes, one of our guys is beating the hell out of one of their guys!" level. Fred loved the fights. He couldn't hide it. He turned every donnybrook into an HBO boxing event. He stopped announcing as many games when he hit his mid-70s, finally retiring altogether in 1997, to the chagrin of everyone. Bruins games never felt the same. Johnny Most may have been the most famous Boston announcer ever, but Fred Cusick was the best.

One thing I don't understand about the current sports generation: Local announcers don't seem to matter as much. Maybe the best ones go national, or maybe so many games are televised it's impossible for anyone to stand out. Fred Cusick stood out. Sadly, he passed away this week at the age of 90. Like every other Boston fan, I heard the news and felt like someone punched me in the stomach. Other than Marv Albert, he's my favorite announcer ever. RIP.

The NFL Returns to a TV Near You

2009-09-13T22:55:00.004-04:00

Gus Johnson officially welcomed back the NFL this afternoon with this pretty standard call on a rather ho-hum play in the Broncos-Bengals game.

One of my favourite parts of the NFL season; aside from watching 12 hours of football every Sunday while sitting on my couch hungover and in nothing but my underwear; is the trash talking text messages that invariably wind up going back and forth betwixt my various die-hard friends. My favourite today came from my buddy Browner (a Colts fan... and you think you know a guy...), who at 12:22 sent me the following text:

Enjoy the last 42 minuts that the Bills are in a playoff spot.

Ouch. That one stung a little.

Thanks to Flats for the link.

Bonus Coverage:

A particularly classy Bills fan gives you his pick for the Monday Nighter...

Public Service Announcement - How To Shotgun a Beer

2009-09-01T19:41:00.002-04:00

I had a drunken phone call from my buddy Dunner on Friday night. There was a heated debate raging between him and an associate regarding the proper way to pull the occupying troops out of Iraq... But once they had settled that particular quandary, they moved on to a philosophical dispute that is as old as time itself: What is the proper way to shotgun a beer?

For the good of mankind, I have decided to post the following educational video, in the hopes that we, as a society, can once and for all put our differences aside and begin ridding the world of hunger and disease:

"Gandhi...... Crocodile-Done-Dee..."

By the way... I'm 31.

Fun and Excitement in Winnipeg

2009-09-01T19:21:00.003-04:00

From ESPN.com

Cornerback Adam Jones, released by the Dallas Cowboys in February, has agreed to a one-year deal with the Winnipeg Blue Bombers of the CFL...

The Cowboys acquired Jones from the Tennessee Titans during the draft in April 2008, after he was suspended by the league for the entire 2007 season following multiple off-field incidents while with the Titans.

But during the 2008 season, Jones was suspended for six games by the NFL after getting into an alcohol-related scuffle in October with a team-provided bodyguard at a Dallas hotel. He spent part of that suspension in an alcohol rehabilitation program.

Before going to Dallas, Jones was arrested six times and involved in 12 instances requiring police intervention after Tennessee drafted him in the first round in 2005...

But John Murphy, Winnipeg's director of player personnel, called the acquisition of Jones a "win-win" situation on and off the field, according to SI.com.

"... There isn't a better football player who's not in the NFL, at 25 years old, who's ready to play football, is going to play with a chip on his shoulder, and is going to bring some fun and excitement to our team, our locker room, our city, and our league."

Apparently the good people of Winnipeg have a different idea of what constitutes "fun and excitement".

In a related story, the Philadelphia Human Society is calling this "the perfect gift for the pooch that has it all":

Ways To Make It Rain (in Peru)

2009-08-28T19:40:00.003-04:00

As some of the dotcomrades have learned by now, I've spent a little bit of time recently in Lima, Peru. And by a little bit of time, of course, I mean more time than you coulp probably ever imagine. So needless to say, I... ummm... have some pretty interesting stories.

But those particular stories are not the reason for this particular post. The idea behind this entry is to reach out to all of those venture capitalists who are looking for can't-miss investment opportunities in developing Latin-American countries, in the hopes that the strategic influx of capital might enhance my personal ejoyment during future stays in that great country.

So without further ado, here are the Top-3 Investment Opportunities currently available in Lima, Peru.

1 - An All-Sports Television Station showing sports that are NOT Soccer.

There are 4 all-sports television stations available for viewing in Lima: 3 of those stations show soccer 24-hours a day; the fourth shows soccer 22-hours a day.

I really wish I was kidding.

I can't tell you how many times I've been laying in bed, looking for some kind of relief from Los Simpson en espanol, hoping to catch five minutes of ANY baseball, basketball, or football game, and come across nothing but an endless barrage of futbol highlights... on EVERY station. It's almost enough to make you long for the sweet sounds of the Swirsk.

Needless to say, with nothing but soccer flooding the airwaves, there is plenty of room to bring in a station that focuses on other means of athletic competition.

Exhibit A is the fact that the last time I was in Peru, there was some kind of a women's volleyball tournament going on. The fact that this event could be found on television at all was surprising to me, but to actually supplant soccer as the most rivetting sports related plot-line for a period of two weeks was beyond anything I could have ever fathomed. Honestly, if you'd given me a thousand opportunities to guess which sport would surpass soccer in popularity (even if only for a matter of days), I would have never guessed women's volleyball... And I mean, literally: I would have never guessed women's volleyball. I'm telling you, it seemed as though every single person in Lima was tuned in to these matches. You'd walk past a store selling illegally bootlegged DVDs at 9:30 at night, and the entire storefront would be crammed with middle-aged men cheering wildly for every spike and set. It was one of the strangest things I'd ever witnessed, because, again: we're talking about women's volleyball.

So basically what I'm saying is that if a country can get behind a women's volleyball tournament with the kind of passion and fervour customarily reserved for political revolutions and The Wolrd Cup, isn't it a pretty safe bet that they'd be able to get behind other sports? You know, like sports that are actually interesting to watch? Baseball, basketball, American football, and hockey... I'm looking at you.

And to take this idea a step further, if struggling leagues are looking for somewhere to expand, how about looking south of the equator? I'm telling you, put a couple of NHL franchises (or, judging by the success of women's volleyball: WNBA franchises!) in Lima (a city with a population of more than 8 million), and I can pretty well guarantee a sellout for every home date.

In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that the problem with Gary Betman's expansion strategy was not that he went too far south; it's that he didn't go far enough. I'm telling you, the Miraflores Moose and the El Centro Incas would be model franchises in the NHL if given the chance. The NHL won't let Jim Balsillie go to Hamilton? Let's see them try to keep him out of Lima.

2 - A World Class Amusement Park

So, it was a Sunday night in Lima, and we were looking for something to do. Someone mentioned that Lima's version of the CNE might be a good place to check out (the park is only open for a month or so per year). Despite my skepticism regarding the safety regulations on Limean carnival rides, I decided that it would be interesting to check it out.

So, we piled into a cab and took the 15 minute ride to the park. From outside the gates, the park looked decemt enough. No real roller coasters, but an assortment of Zipper-like rides, a variety of spinning rides that would probably make you puke, bumper cars, merry-go-rounds, cotton candy, games of skill and chance, big-ass prizes... It was essentially your everyday, small-town carnival fare.

But when we enterred the park, I realized all at once that this wasn't just your everyday, small-town carnival; at least not to the people of Peru.

Without exaggeration, the lines for these rides ranged anywhere from 2.5 hours long to the type of wait that would invariably cause me to commit a random and senseless capital offense. I'd never seen anything like it.

Two thoughts immediately enterred my mind. The first was that I needed to get the hell out of there before being talked into waiting in one of those obscene lines. And the second was that, if I ever had money to invest, a world class Amusement Park in the heart of Lima would undoubtedly be the way to go. Because if Limeans were willing to wait in those kinds of lines for those kinds of rides, how ridiculously popular would a theme park be that offered something like this:

Lima clearly needs it's own version of Canada's Wonderland. Call it Peruvian Wonderland, or The Incan Adventure, but just open it soon, and be prepared to start counting your Soles.

3 - A Radio Station that plays Quality Rock and Roll Music

This one might just be the kiss of death, which probably makes it my most likely foray into the world of dubious South American investment opportunities.

Here's the thing: the things I enjoy the most in this world invariably seem to go out of business, get taken over by multi-national corporations, or just plain fall off the face of the earth. Whether it be great Italian hole-in-the-wall restaurants, back alley BYOB jazz clubs, ultra-hip-fair-trade-shade-grown cafes, or yes, fantastically ecclectic independent radio stations; all of the things which I hold in the highest regard tend to disappear. I chalk it up in part to the fact that most of what makes those particular things great is that nobody else seems to know about them (great for the coolness effect; not so much for the bottom line), and in part due to the truth found in the lines of The Band's Ophelia, which rhetorically asks: "Why do the best things always disappear?"

But it cannot be denied that the radio stations in Peru that advertise tu musica en ingles! are nothing if not Gawd-awful. They basically have a 10-song rotation that includes The Ting Tings That's Not My Name, Lady GaGa's Poker Face, Green Day's Know Your Enemy (remember when Green Day used to be a good rock band? That seems like another lifetime ago), Rihana's Don't Stop The Music, anything released by the Killers in the past 3 years (how is it possible for a band to suck this much?), The All American Rejects Gives You Hell, Akon's Right Now, and Colbie Caillat's Realize...

As you might well imagine, this selection on a constant repeat is enough to drive an indie rock lover with multiple man-crushes on the great songwriters of our age absolutely batty.

So this is what I propose: take your money, do whatever it takes to land yourself a radio station in Lima with a decent enough bandwidth, and... are you ready for the million dollar idea? Play decent music. Honestly, it doesn't even have to be good music or hip music or cutting edge or avant garde or anything. It just needs to be decent. (By the way, this idea would also work in the Toronto market, if anyone is interested)

There are enough people in Lima with sufficiently decent taste that they would be able to appreciate things beyond the scope of the absurdly awful, industry fed Top-40. I'm telling you, take this playlist; mix it with this playlist; and add in a little bit of this playlist... Put it on the air in Lima, and at the very least, you will have the kind of radio station that people won't contemplate killing themselves for having listened to it for more than an hour.

There has to be some kind of value in that, doesn't there?

---

Despite the fact that some of the Limean entertainment could use some upgrading, there are a few key areas where they absolutely dominate North American society; areas in which any investor would have to be a fool to try to compete.

So again, as a public service announcement to the good venture capitalist dotcomrades out there, here are the Top-3 Worst Investment Opportunities currently available in Lima, Peru.

1 - Video Rental Establishment

I hate Blockbuster Video. There's a long-standing feud between that particular conglomerate and myself, going back to a misguided time in my life where I once rented Moulin Rouge and allowed my dad watch it after I went back to University at the end of the weekend. He mistakenly returned it to the other Blockbuster Video in my hometown, and it wasn't until 17 days later that either one of the establishments thought to inform us about this understandable error. They boldly proclaimed that I owed them $97.75 ($5.75 x 17) for that particular rental, stating in no uncertain terms that they would be unwilling to budge on this figure. This of course led to a rather heated discussion between me and the manager that eventually resulted in my cutting up my membership card at the counter and throwing the shards of plastic in his face, vowing to never step foot in one of those un-Godly establishments ever again.

So it is with great pleasure that I walk the streets of Lima and am able to purchase; not rent; every conceivable movie that any cinephile could ever dream of, for approximately $1.00.

I'm telling you, every single storefront seems to have a wall of titles listing every movie currently screening in theatres. And I'm not talking about the kind of Chinatown bootlegging quality DVDs you customarily get here where you're watching the movie someone else has filmed from inside the theatre, and kids are throwing shit at the screen; I'm talking about the same DVD you would buy at Future Shop, complete with all of the language and subtitle options, outtakes, and deleted scenes... For $1.00! (3 Soles is basically $1 USD.)

They even have a gigantic marketplace where you can buy knockoff...everything... in which there is an entire floor dedicated to bootleg movies. I spent an entire afternoon there loading up on titles for my parents: Que Paso Ayer (The Hangover); Te Amo, Brother (I Love You, Man); Marley y Yo (Marley and Me); the entire Back To the Future trilogy... It was one of the proudest days of my life.

So word to the wise: stay away from the movie renting business in Lima. You don't stand a chance.

2 - Drive a Taxi

In Toronto, when you jump into a cab, they start the meter at $4.00. They then clock you in at $1.60 per km. This fee can add up in a hurry, as evidenced by my taxi ride from one wedding to another three weeks ago (the trip from Oakville to Toronto cost me $87.00). Unless you land a cabbie who is thoroughly unsatisfied with his employer and you can convince him to turn off the meter and pay him the way Randy Moss pays the NFL, these rates are non-negotiable. And they are incredibly steep.

Things are a little different in Lima. You basically flag down a cab at any given time of the day (every second car in Lima is a Taxi, official or otherwise), and negotiate a rate. With Gringos like me, the cabbies usually have a field day. They will probably charge you triple what they might charge a local, but it still costs far less than what you might expect to pay at home for the same ride. But if you're lucky enough to have a beautiful Limean girl to show you the ropes, the amount it can cost to take a taxi anywhere in Lima is almost laughable.

For example, last month I took a taxi to the airport. It was a 45 minute ride, and basically took me halfway across one of the most sprawling cities in the world. The ride cost me 25 Soles... Which is less than $9.00.

Ridiculous.

3 - Open a Beer Store

I remember I once had a buddy from New Jersey up for a night. He was playing a gig in town and needed somewhere to crash. Before the show, we decided to grab some liquid provisions, so I suggested we take a walk over to The Beer Store. "Good call", he said. When we arrived at the establishment, his reaction was basically: "Holy Shit... This is actually called The Beer Store! I thought that was just what you called the place where you buy your beer!"

Alas, if you grew up in the Province of Ontario, for the duration of your alcohol drinking life (in all likelihood, since the age of 14), you have been subjected to the confounding reality that all alcohol must be purchased at a Government-run establishment. Of course, The Beer Store does have some advantages. There are literally hundreds of different beers available, and the sauce is always ice cold. But these glorious establishments are few and far between, and the product is almost always offensively overpriced.

The way it works in Peru (and in most of the rest of the world, for that matter) is that every single little tienda and bodega sells beer and hard liquor, and they sell it dirt cheap.

Where I stay in Lima, there are literally 5 places within a 45 second walk, where you can buy 4 650ml bottles of Brahma for 12 Soles. When you convert the size of the beers and do the exchange on the dollar, that works out to approximately $0.50 per beer... For Brahma! That's basically 1/4 the price of what it costs to buy lo mismo cantidad de cerveza here in Ontario.

As is the case with most things Peruvian, the beer is best enjoyed exactly the way it is now.

Friday Diversion

2009-08-27T23:21:00.004-04:00

Well, the summer in Toronto lasted approximately 2 weeks. Here's a little something to keep you from smashing your face against your desk at work all day long. As always, this is some of the best stuff I've come across over the past few weeks.

Laugh, Kookaburra
By David Sedaris

David Sedaris looks back at his visit to the Australian bush.

Weinsteins Struggle to Regain Their Touch
By David Segal

With the highly anticipated release of Inglorious Bastards, Segal takes look back at the history of Bob and Harvey Weinstein (the list of movies they have produced is ridiculous), how they have fallen on "relatively" hard times, and why the future of the Weinstein Company is potentially precarious.

Thanks to Browner for the link.

Sporting Emotions at the Highest Pitch
By Bill Simmons

The sports guy checks out the USA-Mexico World Cup qualifier at Estadio Azteca in Mexico City. This is the finest piece Simmons has written in quite some time (the correlation to the recent lacklustre columns and his decision to join Twitter cannot be overstated). It is the best thing I have read about Futbol since Chuck Klosterman famously said that to love soccer is to give up hope for the capacity of the human spirit.

I tend to side more with Klosterman, but that doesn't mean that I'd turn down the chance to catch a game at the Azteca.

The BS Report with Steve Nash

A fantastic interview with the greatest athlete not-named-"Wayne" that Canada has ever produced.

The YouTube Clips of the week could not be on more opposite ends of the spectrum. One comes courtesy of Ronnie and could not possibly be more NSFW. The other comes courtesy of Dinner, and will probably give you goosebumps.

Larry Williams: The Dickeman

2009-08-21T12:12:00.003-04:00

If these aren't the best directions ever given, then I clearly have no idea what I'm talking about.

Call me old fashioned, but I'll take Larry over a dashboard GPS any day of the week and twice on Sundays. I mean, sure, your GPS can tell you where the nearest Starbucks is located, but can it track down pussy and weed and deliver it to your room at the Motel 6? I think not.

"I got a good dick. I got a dick made of gold. I got a good dick. I got a lovely dick. I got a beautiful dick. I got a lovely dick... 'Cause I am the God damn Dick Man: D.I.C.K.E.M.A.N."

Thanks to Browner for the clip.

You may take this with however many grains of salt as you wish...

2009-08-17T16:36:00.004-04:00

The Woodstock Music & Art Fair took place 40 years ago today (and yesterday and tomorrow). And to celebrate, as is the custom, my dad called me up and warned me to stay away from the brown acid.

Contrary to popular belief, I actually was NOT conceived at Woodstock, but my dad does own a pair of pink corduroy bell-bottoms, and there is a striking resemblance in the air-guitaring styles of myself and Joe Cocker, so it's easy to see how the story regarding the true nature of my origins could have taken on a life of it's own over the years.

Bonus material: The Who finishing their 4 am set as the sun rises in the background...

Marijuana Makes You Smarter

2009-08-14T12:16:00.003-04:00

My buddy Gizzie has the perfect storm of debauchery brewing this weekend: His bachelor party is the night of his 30th birthday, both of which will be taking place in Niagara Falls, ON.

It would not be unreasonable to expect scenes similar to these:

In any event, with such a deparvity-filled 24-hours looming, I thought I'd put the minds of the participants at ease with the following passage from Chuck Klosterman's Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs:

Last year I had to go to one of those "adult" parties. I think you know the kind of party I mean: People brought their screaming children and someone inexplicably served fresh cornbread, and half the house stood around and watched the local news affiliate when it came on at 11:00 pm. I spent the whole evening in the kitchen with the two guys I came with; we tried to have an exclusionary conversation despite the fact that we consciously drove to this party in order to be social. Most of the guests began to exit at around midnight, which is the same time some odd fellow I'd never seen before suddenly appeared next to the refrigerator and pulled out a Zippo lighter and a little wooden box.

The gathering took a decidedly different turn.

Ten minutes later, I found it necessary to mention that Journey was rock's version of the TV show Dynasty. This promted a spirited debate we dubbed "Monkees = Monkees." The goal is to figure out which television show is the closest philosophical analogy to a specific rock 'n' roll band, and the criteria is mind-blowingly complex: It's a combination of longevity, era, critical acclaim, commercial success, and - most important -the aesthetic soul of each artistic entity. For example, the Rolling Stones are Gunsmoke. The Strokes are Kiefer Sutherland's 24. Jimi Hendrix was The Twilight Zone. Devo was Fernwood 2-Night. Lynyrd Skynyrd was The Beverly Hillbillies, which makes Molly Hatchet Petticoat Junction. The Black Crowes are That '70s Show. Hall & Oates were Bosom Buddies. U2 is M*A*S*H* (both got preachy at the end). Dokken was Jason Bateman's short-lived sitcom It's Your Move. Eurythmics were Mork & Mindy. We even deduced comparisons for solo projects, which can only be made to series that were spawned as spin-offs. The four Beatles are as follows: John = Maude, Paul = Frasier, George = The Jeffersons, and Ringo = Flo. David Lee Roth's solo period was Knots Landing.

So there's your proof: Marijuana makes you smarter.

Friday Diversion

2009-08-14T00:26:00.001-04:00

If you're stuck inside on the first summer-like Friday of the summer, here's a little something in lieu of a patio and a bucket of ice cold beer. As always, this is some of the best stuff I've come across over the course of the past little while.

The Courthouse Ring
By Malcolm Gladwell

As we approach the 50th anniversary of the publication of To Kill A Mockingbird, Gladwell gives us an updated look into the realities of southern liberalism.

I have to say, having learned a few things about life and literature in the 15 years since I last read TKM (in the 10th grade), I'd say that I'm about due for another crack at Harper Lee's masterpiece.

A Guide to Summer Sun Protection
By Zev Borow

For all of the fair-skinned descendents of the Irish out there, this one's for you.

SPF 175—Ever wanted to have unprotected sex with a prostitute in Haiti? Don’t answer. Doesn’t matter. The point is with SPF 175 that’s now an option.

Bitter Brew
By Michael Idov

A hilarious piece about the apparently ubiquitous dream of opening one's own cozy little cafe. I have to say, I have, upon occassion, harboured the same little fantasy of hanging out in my own little coffee shop all day long, spinning great tunes, and generally soaking in the kind of bohemian slacker vibe that my establishment would undoubtedly emit.

Thankfully, this little essay has come along and put an end to that ridiculous notion. I think the subtitle summarizes it best:

I opened a charming neighborhood coffee shop. Then it destroyed my life.

At The National Sports Collectors Convention - Photo Gallery
By Bill Simmons

This photo essay is a must for any sports fan, pop culture fan, or for anyone who has spent any time at any kind of a collector's convention... I'm looking at YOU, dad.

When It Comes to Bad Contracts, Jays Ricciardi is Hard to Beat
By Joe Posnanski

I have been of the opinion that J.P. Ricciardi is one of the worst GMs in baseball for approximately 5 years. He is deserving of a spot amongst the truly great "Bad GMs in Toronto Sports History", joining his contemporaries (Rob Babcock and John Ferguson Jr.), as well as some legends (Gord Stellick and basically anyone associated with the Toronto Maple Leafs in the 80s).

And it gives me great pleasure to announce that I'm no longer alone in this sentiment. As Posnanski points out (referring to Vernon Wells' contract):

This deal, to be honest, is not the sort of thing that leads to a general manager getting fired. It's the sort of thing that leads to entire villages getting pillaged. And that's what I mean about Ricciardi. I mean, this contract alone should be enough to put him in the Bad Contract Hall of Fame. But when you look over the whole body of work ... he IS the Bad Contract Hall of Fame.

In fact, really, we should just start referring to bad baseball contracts as "Ricciardis."

Thanks to Flats for the link.

Possible Reasons Why 102.1 The Edge Currently Sucks...

2009-08-12T23:40:00.008-04:00

There was a time when 102.1 The Edge was the greatest radio station in... well, this city at least. Because there was a time when, if you wanted to hear new music in Toronto, 102.1 was the only place you had your dial tuned (in fact, there was a time where the station was actually called "The Spirit of Radio"!). CFNY had such a loyal following that when we were growing up, my buddy DVZ used to claim that listening to 102.1 alone could cure cancer.

The same can no longer be said today.

For awhile there, I thought it was simply because of my advancing age, the result of which meant that I was no longer in tune with what the kids were listening to these days. I felt like I was going through some kind of a mid-life crisis whereby I was being forced to question my current musical tastes. But as it turns out, maybe it wasn't me who was going through the crisis.

There was a time when Barry Taylor was the most entertaining DJ on Toronto's airwaves (exhibit A - This November 2008 piece). The Barry Funny Joke was an endless source of entertainment. The Barry Interesting Survey was a basehead's delight. And Megaphone man was the kind of gig that only The Edge could get away with airing. Everything he did was unconventional, which was why he was so wildly popular.

But a few months ago, BT was unceremoniously dismissed from 102.1. At first, I chalked it up to the fact that his bosses simply got sick of his endless soliloquies and one-sided discussions regarding all things Zeitgeist that invariably ruined my weekly Wednesday night drive to hockey (if you haven't seen it yet, you can catch it here: Zeitgeist, The Movie, and Zeitgeist: Addendum).

But as it turns out, there was more to it than simply the fact that BT: The Conspiracy Theorist just wasn't cutting it. And it's too bad, because even a decidedly un-funny Barry Taylor was infinitely better than anything else on the air (with the exception of the always affable Dave Bookman, of course).

And sure, this is probably a pretty one-sided take on how it all went down, but Barry Taylor's version of the events which led to his eventual dismissal go a long way in explaining why 102.1 The Edge currently sucks...

Taken from his MySpace Blog, here is BT's:

Why I Was Fired From 102.1 the Edge

My Adolescent Love Life (summarized in 5 seconds)

2009-08-08T00:13:00.002-04:00

Yep. That slow-motion instant replay is probably the perfect metaphor for my high school dating career.

Willy DeVille: 1953-2009

2009-08-07T21:05:00.008-04:00

AFP - PARIS — US singer songwriter Willy DeVille, who headed the 1970s New York punk group Mink DeVille before going solo and taking new directions, has died at the age of 55, his French tour organiser said Friday.

"Willy DeVille this night joined Edith Piaf, Jack Nitzsche and Johnny Thunders", said Caramba Spectacles, referring respectively to the French star who inspired him, to his producer, and to a fellow-70s punk guitarist.

His wife had announced in June that DeVille had pancreatic cancer.

DeVille in the late 70s played in New York's mythical CBGB club alongside the likes of Blondie or the Ramones with his first album Cabretta produced by Nitzsche, former arranger for Phil Spector...

On more than a few occassions, I have had people ask me who I believe to be the most underrated band of all-time. Without hesitation, I always tell them: Mink DeVille.

Maybe it's because my dad used to bring a lunch box full of cassette tapes camping with us every summer, and we'd usually wind up listening to this fantastic live show they recorded at the El Mocambo while sitting around the campgfire deep into the night. Maybe it was the songs about life in New York's lower east side that drew me in, or the way Willy could sprinkle his arrangements with a kind of Spanish-strolling American soulful bluesiness that I hadn't heard before or since. Whatever the reason, there was always something about that Loisaida sound of Willy Deville's voice that made me feel like Mink DeVille should have been the biggest band in the world.

To say that they fell short of the acclain they deserved is a ridiculous understatement.

Cabretta is easily one of my top-20 all-time favourite albums. Venus of Avenue D is the best song ever written about latin love in Alphabet City, and Can't Do Without It might be the most truthful song ever written about love, period.

And it's love that gets you so excited

And it's love that brings you home at night

And it's love... You can't do without it

It's love... love, what makes you treat me so bad?

1978's Return To Magenta is one of the 9 albums I have framed and hanging on the wall in my living room. And Miracle, DeVille's first solo effort, is one of those timeless records that I could literally listen to any day of the week (Could You Would You? and Heart and Soul will break your heart if you've never heard them before).

And there were few people who could cover a song and make it their own the way Willy DeVille could. The aforementioned Could You Would You is a thing of beauty (trumping Van Morrison?). His mariachi inspired version of Hey Joe is surreal (click HERE for fantastic video). And the version of Stand By Me from Montreux is sublime.

The life of Willy DeVille is one of countless sad-luck tales about an artist who never received the type of recognition that they rightfully deserved in their lifetime. Here's hoping he receives some of that long-overdue appreciation in his passing.

His is a voice that will be sorely missed.

Gerry Dee and Sir Charles

2009-07-27T13:22:00.002-04:00

This is hands down one of the funniest interviews I've ever seen. Is there anybody better than Chuck? Nobody riffs like the Round Mound of Rebound... That strip joint comment was pure genius.

As for Gerry Dee, I've had the pleasure of catching his act in person and he is top notch.

Bonus Coverage:

Gerry Dee challenging Jason Kapono to a 3-point competition, Grade 8 style:

Challenger for "Headline of the Year"

2009-07-21T14:40:00.002-04:00

Man Catches Fire After Being Tasered
By KRISTEN GELINEAU, AP

SYDNEY (July 21) -- A man whose relatives say had been sniffing gasoline burst into flames after a police officer Tasered him as he ran at officials carrying a container of fuel, police said Tuesday...

Western Australia police said they were responding to a complaint at a house when Mitchell ran outside carrying a cigarette lighter and a large plastic bottle containing what they believe was fuel. When he refused to stop running toward them, one officer Tasered him, police said in a statement.

The man was immediately engulfed in flames. The officer threw him to the ground and smothered the blaze with his hands, the statement said. Mitchell was charged with assault to prevent arrest and possession of a sniffing substance.

An 18-year-old woman threw rocks at the officer as he tried to help...

Let's get one thing straight: there's nothing funny about spontaneous combustion, especially when you're huffing gasoline. Talk about a buzz-kill.

But is there something funny about an 18-year old girl throwing rocks at officers trying to help out a recently tasered gas-huffer who is currently engulfed in flames?

Yes. Yes there is.

Two Mexican Midget Wrestlers Killed by Fake Prostitutes? The gauntlet has been thrown down.

(And any excuse to show the "Don't Tase Me, Bro!" video is blog-worthy by my scorecard):

Parking Tickets in Toronto

2009-07-20T12:38:00.002-04:00

So here's the thing. I have received 3 parking tickets in the past 3 weeks. That's close to $100 that I won't be spending on buckets of Amsterdam Blonde at The Cadillac Lounge. And I can deal with that. In most instances, it was my own stupidity that resulted in my ticket. I wasn't even bitter the time I popped into Chippy's for takeout with my dad and came back to my car 3 minutes later only to find that unmistakable yellow slip in my windshield... I was so shocked that the parking ticket dude was able to write up a ticket that fast that I could do nothing but tip my cap. I felt like Ron Burgundy after Baxter ate a whole wheel of cheese and pooped in the refrigerator: I wasn't even mad... Just amazed.

In any event, I have a great idea that I think the City of Toronto should give some strong consideration.

Living in the digital age that we currently inhabit, as you well know, almost everything is done online. And paying for your parking infractions through the City of Toronto's website is no different. But here's the thing: they charge you a $1.50 convenience fee to pay your ticket online.

So let me get this straight: in a City that professes itself to be one of the leaders in sustainable development (passing a watered down green roof by-law), and in a city that rightfully tries to discourage you from driving into the City's downtown core by bombarding you with an endless array of parking tickets, they are actually penalizing you for paying your tickets from the comforts of your own home (where, presumably, you will not be clogging the city streets with you carbon emitting vehicle).

A $1.50 convenience charge... It's as if they think the internet is this brand new invention that they should charge a fee for because they invented it or something...

So here's my suggestion: I would happily pay the $1.50 convenience charge if there was a section that gave you 140 characters worth of twitter-like comment space. Not only would this be endlessly entertaining for the people from the City who would get the opportunity to sift through these comments (wouldn't a collection of these comments be the best website since textsfromlastnight.com?), but it would be highly cathartic for those frustrated transgressors, who would probably be able to resist beating the tar out of the parking enforcer if they knew they'd be able to express their displeasure online.

So, until the City of Toronto adopts this idea for their online payment option, here is what I would have written for my last 3 tickets:

1. COCKSUCKERS!

2. I thought you assholes were on strike...

3. Alright... I cry Uncle...

Deer Tick at the Horseshoe Tavern - 07.17.09

2009-07-18T15:42:00.008-04:00

Frankly, I've never seen anything quite like it.

Two years ago, I wrote a piece about the all-time top-5 shows I'd ever attended. Now granted, I have been to a tonne of ridiculously good shows in the past 2 years, so that list probably requires some updating. But last night's performance by John McCauley and company is definitely in the conversation. It was just that good.

(Disclaimer: I attended this show alone. I'm trying to decide whether this means that a) I am the world's biggest loser; b) my friends have gotten incredibly lame as they approach/crest their 30s; or c) I was so stoked about catching Deer Tick's set that I was willing to go it alone. The safe bet is that it was probably a combination of the 3).

In any event, in my failed attempts to recruit a fellow concert goer, I billed Deer Tick (check their MySpace page) as the best thing to come out of Providence since The Rhode Island Slut; their live performance went a long way in solidifying that reputation.

I had met my buddy Dunner and some friends at The Underground Garage for a few pre-show beverages before heading over to the Legendary Horseshoe Tavern to catch the last few tunes by Dawes. They played a solid couple of tracks, with the exclamation point being their closing number with McCauley and a bottle of Jack Daniels on stage which they proceeded to swig from before passing around to various members of the audience, Swine Flu epidemic notwithstanding. Yep, it was going to be that kind of a night. And it was certainly that kind of a crowd.

I've seen countless shows at the world famous 'Shoe, but in all honesty, I haven't seen a crowd that raucous in a long, long time. Over-serving was the order of the day, and without exaggeration, I literally saw some dude pass out in the middle of the melee during one of the tunes. It was absolutely ridiculous. The dancing, the singing, the beer spraying... It was an off-the-charts party atmosphere, and Deer Tick absolutely upped the ante with their performance.

They opened with Easy, which is easily one of my favourite tunes off the new record (Born On Flag Day), and they absolutely crushed it. Their sound is this rollicking, boisterous, rootsy-blues-alt-country mix (think a raucous, booze-filled cocktail of Steve Earle, John Prine, Dylan and The Band 18-months after going electric, and just a dash of late 70's Springsteen and Thin Lizzie for good measure), and for a band that had been partying relentlessly all night, they were tighter than I would have ever imagined. Just a breathtaking display of musicianship.

Houston, TX was another favourite of mine, as was a surprising uptempo and rocking version of Baltimore Blues No. 1. These Old Shoes was phenomenal, as was Ashamed, which resulted in one of the great sing alongs that I have ever been a part of (the lyric "murdered my throat screamin' bloody all night" having never been more appropriate, with McCauley's voice having been annihilated by the night's work). They threw in an admirable cover of Tom Petty's Breakdown just for good measure.

But the highlight for me came at about 2:15am. Most of the shows I've attended at the 'Shoe tend to wrap up at the exact stroke of 2:00am, but the band was still rocking away, with no end in sight. This was probably in part due to the energy of the crowd, and in part due to the band's working class desire to play until the lights come on. Somebody side-stage informed the band that they had one song left, and that would be it... Which prompted McCauley to announce:

"Apparently, this is our last song... But don't worry... We'll make it epic..."

Quite possibly the understatement of the year. They kicked into a thrashing multi-song medley that finished with a mosh-inducing version of Labamba, which concluded only when McCauley, lead guitarist Andrew Tobiassen, and the lead singer from Dawes leaped from the stage and crowd-surfed to the back of the dancefloor... I was soaked in beer and sweat, and it was absolutely glorious.

The bar couldn't turn on the house lights fast enough, but that didn't stop the crowd from relentlessly chanting for an encore, which McCauley eventually provided by sitting down at the keyboard and coaxing his bandmates into one more thrashing blues tune to the rapture of the entire congregation.

Needless to say, it was one of the finest performances this critic has ever seen.

Easy

Ashamed

Baltimore Blues No. 1

Friday Diversion

2009-07-17T08:07:00.000-04:00

A little something to get you through to the weekend. As always, here is some of the best stuff I've come across over the course of the past few weeks:

Priced To Sell
By Malcolm Gladwell

A relevant take on the market-driven price of information and ideas in the digital age. Stewart Brand once declared: "Information wants to be free". And as a site that provides little more than information...ummm... I'm going to have to agree.

The Glorious Third
By Hendrik Hertzberg

A look into the reasons behind Sarah Pallin's resignation. Hint: there's a good chance the reason's involve $$$... And I absolutely love the candour in the answer given by Levi Johnston, the 19-year old father of Pallin's grandchild:

“Levi,” a reporter put in, “say Sarah Palin ran for President in 2012. Would you vote for her?”

Johnston sighed. “No,” he said. “I think she’s a great lady and all, but after seeing what she did now—you know, this leaving Alaska—I would have to say no. I mean, obviously if she’s stressed out as governor, I mean, moving up to the Vice-President or President is huge. I just don’t think, anymore, that she’s cut out for the job.”

Let's Celebrate the "Summer of Mailbag"
By Bill Simmons

I won't lie to you: ever since The Sports Guy began twittering, his columns have been less-than-impressive. Fortunately for mankind, he has made a triumphant return with his most recent mailbag. Here are some of my favourite Q&As:

Q: Let's imagine for a second that you go to hell and are going to be forced to watch every game a sports team ever played and will play for the rest of eternity. Except, your memory will be wiped so you don't know the results (to maximize the agony) and you will become a die-hard fan of that team with no memory of other fan association (to ensure you don't get free Red Sox tickets forever). Which team in each of the four major sports will Satan be bestowing on you?-- Marty, Flint, Mich.

SG: Cubs, Bills, Clippers, Maple Leafs. I didn't have to think for even six seconds about it. In fact, I think this is part of hell -- you have to adopt these four teams and watch their games as you listen to a looped recording of Bill Russell's laugh mixed in with Yoko Ono music and no-longer-timely sideline reports from Tony Siragusa. Welcome to hell.

(As both a Leafs and a Bills fan, I agree wholeheartedly... But I'm sure there will be a breakthrough in my counseling sessions any day now, so I'm not overly worried.)

Q: How suffocating was Kobe's wife during L.A.'s locker room celebration? Didn't you half-expect to see her with champagne goggles on? There's a certain distance wives need to provide when a man wins a championship, no?-- Bill Ryan, Cherry Hill, N.J.

SG: Look, that's one of many reasons the NBA title celebration is the single worst in sports. We don't want to watch "The Family Man" with Nic Cage. We want to see guys letting loose! Here's how I would fix it:

1. We need a better trophy -- the Larry O'Brien trophy is just as clunky and ineffective as O'Brien was as commissioner. Maybe that's why they named it after him. It's horrendous. It looks like they cryogenically froze Verne Troyer and covered him in gold. What's wrong with just ripping off the Stanley Cup, only making the bottom a half-basketball? Lord Stanley's Cup is genius. You can kiss it, you can drink from it, you can hoist it over your head … there's just no downside. If you're telling me that it fits in better with hockey because NHL players drink beer and NBA players smoke pot, then fine, let's make a Stanley Cup that looks like a bong. We can call it the Stanley Bong. But let's do something...

Q: I still can't get over the fact that Sidney Crosby has been living with Mario Lemieux since he was first drafted. Can you imagine any other sport in which the No. 1 pick would go and live with his team's owner?-- Darren Low, Toronto

SG: Couldn't agree more, and I have been thinking about it ever since it was mentioned during the finals and I said, "Wait a second, he's STILL living there?" I always thought hockey differentiated itself from other sports with the Canadian connection, playoff beards, fighting, the Cup, coming back into a game 10 minutes after taking 50 stitches in the face from a slapshot and everything else of that ilk. But you're right -- Crosby/Lemieux should be the first thing mentioned in any "Why are hockey players different than all other types of athletes?" conversation. If Matthew Stafford moved in with the Detroit Lions' owner, we'd think it was the weirdest thing that ever happened and make him a running joke every time he threw an interception: Look out, Matthew, you're gonna get grounded! Uh-oh, they're gonna take cable out of your room! That kind of stuff.

In hockey? You could tell me any story about an NHL player, and I'd believe it. You could tell me Crosby and Geno Malkin share a condo, a bedroom and a bunk bed … I'd believe it. You could tell me the Maple Leafs soak their hands in deer urine before games because it makes their knuckles stronger … I'd believe it. You could tell me Chris Chelios is still playing at age 46 … I'd believe it. (What? He is?) You could tell me all NHL teams travel by bus and not plane … I'd believe it. Hockey players are a different breed. That's why we love them.

You know how I started the Tyson Zone for athletes who pass the point of craziness and eventually you'll believe any story about them? I'd argue that there's also an NHL Zone -- you could pick any NHL-related story, real or made up, and tell another sports fan that story, and they'd have no choice but to believe it. Why? Because of moments like, "Yeah, the captain of the Stanley Cup champs still lives at his owner's house even though he's 21."

Nike Confiscates Vides of Lebron Getting Dunked On
By The Canadian Press

The reason none of my dunks have appeared on YouTube.

Thanks to Ronnie for the link

The Story of Prisoner F95488
By Sam Alipour

A sad story illustrating how the American justice system can fail, shronicling the story of USCB soocer star Eric Frimpong

Thanks to DVZ for the link.

Two Mexican Midget Wrestlers Killed by Fake Prostitutes
By The Associated Press

Fairly self-explanatory. The runaway favourite for "Headline of the Year".

Thanks to Llibs for the story.

The Podcast of the Week comes courtesy of Bill Simmons, as he talks with Chris Connelly about celebrity deaths, the fact that we are quickly approaching the end of the decade (huh?), and the discrepancy in the quality of movies from the 90s to the 00s.

Down The Shore Everything's Alright...

2009-07-16T18:11:00.002-04:00

I

(Heart)

NJ

To me, nothing says "Summer" quite like a day at the beach. And having spent a considerable amount of time down the Jersey Shore, there are few places for me that evoke what it means to feel young, alive, wild and free.

And don't get me wrong: I love the state of New Jersey. Bruce Springsteen; Asbury Park; Frank Sinatra; Long Beach Island; Puddy... What's not to like?

But with that being said...really... Nothing could have ever prepared me for these clips. I think the kid at the end of the "Guido Beach" segment put it best when he said: "That's liquid GOLD!"

From Ms. "It's Different" and the shirtless pubescent-'stache-dude's "serious relationship", clear through to Jen from "Jew-ville" who loves the shore for its juice-heads, these clips just don't quit.

I'm telling you, this entire collection of clips is like a video documentation of my last trip to the Jersey Shore with my buddies Dunner and Ronnie... Except, you know... if it were the exact opposite.

(By the way, if you had to guess what year that first clip is from, what would you say? 1982? 1972?... The fact that the footage is from 1992 makes me want to challenge that crazy payphone girl to a fight)

Livin' Large

2009-07-15T20:21:00.004-04:00

If you like great writing, basketball, and cringe-worthy tales of Freshman awkwardness, check out the Livin' Large segment on Basketbawful. It is the story of Matt McHale's foray into the world of sharing a dormroom with a college basketball player... And it is absolutely brilliant:

Livin' Large: Part 1

Part 2 (Phenomenal)

And for the entire Livin' Large archives (through Part 9 and counting), click HERE

Here's a sample from Part 1:

When we got to the room, it was unlocked, which I found strange. (Upon check in, I was informed that Safety Rule #1 was "Always lock your door, even when you're in the room.") I walked in and immediately turned to my mom, told her to wait, and closed the door. I wasn't prepared for what I was seeing, so I was pretty sure she wasn't ready for it either.

There was a man laying in one of the two beds. Actually, he was more man-monster than man. He was a giant. And, within the confines of this tiny little room, he seemed beyond enormous. The best way to put it is he was Shaq-size: 7'1", almost 300 pounds. I think sometimes, as an NBA fan, it becomes all too easy to take for granted the sheer bulk of a muscled seven-footer...but not when they're right in front of you, and certainly not when you're trapped in a room the size of a large closet with them. To make matters even stranger, he had a shaved head (something that I had never seen in my hometown) and he was wearing nothing but a pair of bikini-brief underwear.

Thanks to Sneeze for the link.

Coolest. Man. Alive.

2009-07-14T23:31:00.005-04:00

Seriously.

Does any other person alive have the testicular fortitude to wear a SOX jacket (to say nothing of the blue jeans and Seinfeldesque sneakers) while throwing out the first pitch at the all-star game in St. Louis? Let alone The President? Just a phenomenal show of gumption.

I'd be willing to give 2-to-1 odds that if you were to go into that bag and find his wallet, it would be the one that says BAD MOTHER FUCKER.

(Well, right up to the point where he actually threw that nancy pitch... After which it undoubtedly would have said TRULY OUTRAGEOUS)

Doc Halladay to Start the Mid-Summer Classic

2009-07-13T14:07:00.004-04:00

From ESPN.com

ST. LOUIS -- Tim Lincecum and Roy Halladay were selected Monday as the starting pitchers for the All-Star Game.

Last year's NL Cy Young Award winner, Lincecum is 10-2 with a 2.33 ERA for the San Francisco Giants. He will get the ball Tuesday night at Busch Stadium, NL manager Charlie Manuel announced.

Lincecum made the All-Star team for last season's game at Yankee Stadium but was unable to pitch because he was ill.

American League manager Joe Maddon and the National League's Charlie Manuel announced their lineups for Tuesday night's All-Star Game in St Louis:

"This is a great accomplishment for me," Lincecum said, his long, shaggy hair protruding from under a black knit cap. "I think tomorrow the big thing is going to be just getting to the field. And after that, just getting on the field."

Halladay, 10-3 with a 2.85 ERA for the Toronto Blue Jays, was chosen by AL manager Joe Maddon.

At long last, the finest pitcher in the American League (most wins in baseball since 2002, while playing for a team with a winning percentage of .499 over the course of those 7 1/2 seasons) is getting his due. Not only is Doc Halladay the greatest pitcher to ever don the poweder blues, he is also one of the classiest men in the biggs.

Congratulations to the Doc. It really couldn't happen to a better guy.

Dornochapalooza 2009

2009-07-10T15:48:00.000-04:00

Dornochapalooza 2009 went down this past weekend in the wilds of West Grey Bruce County, and for the first time in the long and prolific history of the event, we were able to avoid a torrential downpour. In fact, the weather was picture perfect all weekend long. Here are some of the images and accompanying text from those 24-hours of unrivalled debauchery:

The Wikipedia entry for Dornoch, Ontario is as follows:

The Village of Dornoch is located less than 11 kilometers north of the Town of Durham on Highway 6 in Grey County, Ontario, Canada.

Dornoch is situated 11 kilometers south of Williamsford and 33 kilometers south of Owen Sound.

The village is primarily a small farming community on the outskirts of Durham, but does have a convenience store that is known for its photography and ice cream, a community hall that is used for small events as well as the recently rebuilt Dawg House Inn.

Yep... I think that pretty well covers it.

Bubbles was a great help in getting the place ready Saturday morning.

The Hesters totally represented in Dornochapalooza this year. A job well done.

If a new mother is whispering about her baby to your girlfriend, is this a good thing?... Atta boy Ronnie!!!

Yes. That is a Coronoa bottle. And yes, they get an early start at Dornochapalooza.

The only way to prepare for an intense game of CITY vs. Burbs... By slamming back Diet Buds.

There was simply no answer for Sully on this afternoon. Not even Gord Crowther (grey moustache) could shut him down.

Was there ever any doubt that The Bomber was draining the wining bucket in this tilt?

THAT, ladies, is the epitome of athleticism. What a bunch of ballers...

(Final Score: Blake-Ronnie-Sully-Bomber 22 - 20 Rosco-Ghosher-Gordo-Sean)

These ladies couldn't get enough of our athletic prowess. And really, who could blame them?

And while some people were resting up for the night ahead...

The rest of us were clearly acting our age... if this was 1998.

Not only did he dominate on the hard-court, Sully also made short work of the funnel. Some guys are just blessed with more talent than they know what to do with.

Tent City: Sunset.

The fire would have been nowhere were it not for Uncle Petey dominating the stoking duties. The thing about being an adult (and an officer of the law, no less) is that you can throw as much wood on the fire as you like, and my dad won't even bother to call you a dickhead (as would be the case if it were one of his children)

The Triumphant return of Uncle Johnny and Porno Paul.

Line of the evening, courtesy of my Uncle Ken:

Ken (upon meeting my friend Randi for the first time): "Who are YOU?... You are NICE!!!"

The advantages of buying a child-sized tent for $11.99: compact, light-weight.

The disadvantages of buying a child-sized tent for $11.99: Uncle Johnny might take it upon himself to move it; along with it's entire contents; to a more appropriate location.

The White Wife Beater: official uniform of Dornochapalooza 2009.

It is impossible to take a photo of Rosco without later learning of a covert flashing of the bird. I've known the man for more than a decade, have seen him develop his technique over the years, and can legitimately say that he's truly coming into his prime with that gesture. Catching a photo with Rosco at this juncture of his career is like watching the E Street Band in the summer of '78.

Mothers and Daughters. Best Friends. This is a beautiful thing.

Is burning the family Christmas tree considered dysfunctional family fun?

The Bomber and Blundell were officially awarded the Masterton Trophy for showing up despite the fact that The Bomber needed to be at work at 6 o'clock Sunday morning... Holy F#CK!!!

Lisa McCallum's fireside set of Girls Will be Girls / Chip on Her Shoulder / Better brought the house down. There's a good chance that people may one day telling their children about seeing her in such an intimate setting.

It wouldn't be Dornochapalooza without the Edelmans...

...Or Rolf...

...Or Smokey sitting inside someone's car.

Ladies love Dornoch...

...And straight Gangster Rap...

...And John Ghosh.

Things generally begin to spiral out of control round about the time that the Beirut tournament gets underway. This was the first official "Argi Memorial Beirut Tournament".

Team Ramrod were the Vegas favourites going in...

But they were unequivocally dominated in the first round by this magnificent duo...

...Who were eventually dismissed by the Rosco-Ronnie combo. There was simply no answer for the Hebrew Heaver... Clutch doesn't even begin to describe his performance.

(backing away slowly...)

Nothing says "campfire hoedown" like a little Dr. Dre...

...Or a belated homage to Pride Week.

The loving couple... Hey, you guys should TOTALLY get married at Dornochapalooza 2010!!!

Thanks to everyone who attended this year. It was an absolute blast. A special thanks to those who provided the photos: Randi, TVB, Susan, and Marcella. And of course, all of the accolades in the world to my parents. I have no idea how they pull it off every year, but needless to say, none of this could happen without them.

Looking forward to seeing you all next year at Dornochapalooza 2010.

Martin Streek

2009-07-07T10:49:00.002-04:00

From Eye Weekly

EYE WEEKLY has learned tonight that former 102.1 The Edge on-air personality Martin Streek has committed suicide.

Streek had been one of the local modern-rock station's most recognizable voices for two decades, hosting the popular Thursday 30 countdown as well as live-to-air weekend broadcasts from the Phoenix Concert Theatre and Velvet Underground. However, in the wake of recent station restructuring, Streek and fellow Edge veteran Barry Taylor were shown the door this past May. Late Monday evening — following a reportedly grave Facebook status update — I was informed by a former Edge colleague that Streek had taken his own life...

Friday Diversion

2009-07-03T12:59:00.003-04:00

A little light (and I mean... REALLY light) reading and listening to help you through this Friday afternoon as you steele your liver for the 4th of July/Dornochapalooza 2009 combo. As always, this is some of the best stuff I've come across over the past week, with a huge assist to the Dotcomrades.

Gazprom seals $2.5bn Nigerian Deal
BBC News

Quite possibly the worst naming-oversight in the history of the modern business world.

Thanks to Llibs for the link.

In Case of Emergency...
Dave's Place

Every Canadian baseball fan needs to get their hands on one of these.

Thanks to Flats for the tip.

Really Fantasy Baseball
By Flip Flop Fly Ball

Who wins in a one-game playoff between the Wu-Tang Clan and The E Street Band? This might be the single greatest achievement in mindless creativity I've ever had the privelege of coming across.

Thanks again to Flats

The BS Report - Part 1 Part 2
By Bill Simmons

A two-part conversation with Chuck Klosterman, touching on every subject ranging from Michael Jackson and pop culture to Twitter and the art of writing. I fantastic way to kill an hour and a half.

Michael Jackson
By Kelefa Sanneh

A brief tribute to the King of Pop which illustrates the scope of his influence, and how, for one night at least, everyone was listening to the same songs again.

In keeping with the run on MJ, the YouTube Clip of the Week is a fantastic acoustic version of Billie Jean, as sung by Chris Cornell.

Happy Canada Day

2009-07-01T00:50:00.006-04:00

It is no secret that I have posted this video before. And the fact is: I'll probably post it about a hundred more times before it's all said and done, for the simple reason that; with the exception of the version I used to see as a kid at 6 in the morning (the one where the high jumper makes his jump and the little kid kisses his baby brother, as seen below); this is probably the best version of our anthem that has ever been recorded. I literally get goosebumps every time I watch it.

And we all appreciate things in different ways, and we all hold different things close to our hearts for different reasons... But let me just give you a little example of why this country is such a wonderful place to live.

This past weekend was the culmination of Pride Week in Toronto. Let the record show that I am not a homosexual. But I really couldn't be more proud of the fact that this great city and this great country can annually play host to one of the world's largest celebrations of the LGBT community.

So I left one of the world's great cities and got in my car, listening to CBC radio (publicly funded), which was playing an endless array of fantastic Canadian musical talent. I stopped at a Tim Horton's to grab a coffee, and when I had finished, I put my paper cup in a recycling bin (you have no idea how big a deal this is until you've travelled to South America). I eventually made my way to Pinery Provincial Park and found myself in one of North America's last remaining Oak Savanna Woodlands... And I was less than 3 hours from Pride Weekend! (So yes, you can mark our Provincial Park System as yet another reason to love this country). As is the fact that we would be spending most of the next day sitting on a beach at the edge of one of Canada's Great Lakes; a water system that accounts for roughly 18% of the world's fresh surface water.

That night, we sat around a campfire, drank Steam Whistle (arguably one of the best beers in the world), and freely expressed our moral, political, and religious points of view without ever once considering that there might be any kind of reprecussions for doing so (with the exception of being told to keep the noise level down, particularly where belching is concerned). I even made a call from my cell phone to a certain South American country while sitting around the campfire!

The next day, we met some of our fellow campers. They were literally from every conceivable place on earth. We had some neighbours of East Indian descent. There were neighbours who were originally from Asia. We had Eastern Europeans and Western Europeans. People from Africa. People from Latin America... And yet here we all were: Canadians.

And proud of it.

The truth is, this was just like any other weekend in this great country of ours. But it isn't until you take a step back and actually consciously consider the things that we so often take for granted, that you begin to realize just how wonderful a place this is, and the limitless opportunity it affords us as citizens.

And when you actually take the time to stop and think about the things that make up your life in this beautiful country, you may very well come to realize what I have known for quite some time:

Canada really is the greatest country you could ever hope to live in.

Happy Canada Day...

(Fast-forward to 1:02 mark)

Footloose Knee Slide

2009-06-28T20:32:00.002-04:00

This took place at my buddy Nate's wedding last weekend. I thought I would be doing the general public a disservice by not sharing it.

Thanks to Davie Walsh for sacrificing two perfectly good medial collateral ligaments all in the name of high comedy and dancefloor genius.

NXNE 2009 - Arts and Crafts Showcase - Night 2

2009-06-23T23:43:00.003-04:00

As alluded to in a previous entry, I vowed to do my best to maintain a relative sense of sobriety for the second night of the Arts and Crafts Showcase at NxNE, 2009. This was in part due to my journalistic integrity and my desire to bring the dotcomrades nothing but the finest in completely uninformed and entirely biased observations, and in part due to a ridiculously debilitating hangover and the knowledge that I would need to be in relatively decent shape for the remainder of the weekend.

As it turned out, there's something to be said for mixing in a few bottles of water amongst the countless Stellas and White Lightnings, because not only am I currently able to recollect most of Thursday night's show, but I was actually able to get out of bed the following morning in order to make my 9 o'clock meeting.

Look at me, ma! All grows'd up!

Just as they did the night before, the good people at Arts and Crafts were kind enough to grant me access on the loosely veiled quasi-truth that this particular forum actually merits some kind of media credential... (or, more accurately, my buddy Browner vouches for me).

In any event, I arrived promptly at 8 o'clock to catch the entirety of the Zeus set. I have to tell you, I was totally digging the Zeus vibe. Their tunes are full of Beatles-esque melodies, and they have some of the most fantastic moustaches you will ever come across. What's more, they did a stellar cover of the Genesis "classic" That's All. Beginning in July, they'll be doing a 5-night residency (every Wednesday night) at the world famous Dakota Tavern. I, for one, will be checking them out on Canada Day, as they will be sharing their set with The Bahamas (the one band it killed me to miss this weekend, particularly in light of the fact that they ended their set with a cover of Springsteen's Atlantic City).

Timber Timbre took the stage at 9 o'clock, with lead singer Taylor Kirk sitting on the floor. He was joined on stage by a dude on barritone sax, and someone else sitting off to the side playing a variety of sound-making devices which I couldn't name if my life depended on it. I'll admit that I've had the Timber Timbre album in my possession for about 2 months, and it took me a solid 4 or 5 listens before I really started to get into it. Timber Timbre's sound is almost impossible to describe; imagine a darker sounding and more lyrically-sparse Nebraska crossed with a Canadianized (ie, nature sounds) Waitsian junkyard orchestra... Needless to say, I was intrigued by how this might all play out on stage.

I was utterly blown away.

When the set began, I was standing near the back, drinking beer and talking with a bunch of people. But song by song, I found myself moving closer and closer to the stage. They were literally drawing me in with each haunting, hypnotic melody. This is the kind of music that gets into you and never leaves. It's the kind of music that will in all likelihood appear on a Quentin Tarrantino soundtrack one day, leaving audiences wondering exactly what the fuck they're listening to, only to be unable to get what they've heard out of their heads days down the road.

In the brilliant Lay Down In The Tall Grass, Kirk speaks of a "late basement seance that brought us to tears..." That is essentially what this performance was.

It was also the highlight of my NXNE.

You couldn't ask for a more divergent act to follow Timber Timbre than Still Life Still. As the lyrics from one of their opening tracks suggested ("I don't mind your blood on my dick / If you don't mind my cum on your tits"), they were bringing a different vibe to the table, detonating with a blast of exuberent, youthful energy.

Which is precisely what you might expect from a band on the precipice of exploding in a way they probably can't even fathom.

I'm serious: there is nothing that this band could do that would surprise me at this point. They could wind up being bigger than Broken Social Scene, or they could get in a fistfight onstage at their next gig and vow never to play together again. And the drummer (Aaron Romaniuk) is perhaps the biggest wildcard of all. My buddy Browner relates a great story about meeting the band for the first time. Like myself, Browner had partied with the guys far before he ever saw them onstage. But when he finally did catch them live, his first reaction was... "Wait... Aaron's the drummer? I could have sworn he was the lead singer. That guy has ROCK STAR written all over him."

I wouldn't put anything past him at this point. He'll probably end up dating a supermodel. He could wind up starring in Hollywood action films like a poor man's Duane Johnson. And there's about a 20% chance that he'll be found dead in some swimming pool after a particularly raucous party one Thursday night. The sky's the limit.

Their set was off the charts. Think: Handsome Furs meet a more up-tempo Phoenix (which I didn't even know was on the A&C label until about 3 minutes ago), with about 100 times the energy. They've got a couple of babyfaced singers that will undoubtedly make all the little girl's souls grow weak, and perhaps best of all, they are all genuinely good guys... And they certainly know how to party like the Rock Stars they seemed destined to become.

I won't lie to you: I was upstairs in the MIP area (Moderately Important People - as discussed previously, any place that grants me access cannot realistically be described as being reserved for "Very" important anything) for The Most Serene Republic set, and didn't catch much of it at all. The one highlight I can tell you about from this particular hour was that there was a fledgling journalist hanging around and asking me a bunch of intriguing questions ("How did you end up here?" "Where do you get your inspiration from?". Considering that I knew about 4 people upstairs, I spent a fair amount of time speaking to this girl... And then she casually asked: "...Sooooo... What band did you say you were in again?" I nearly spit my drink on her, I was laughing so hard. I should have probably lied and made up some hugely offensive band name (Buster Hyman and The Penetrators?), but I had to ruin her interview and tell her that I was there merely as a spectator.

Not surprisingly, she abandoned me to speak with someone more important shortly thereafter.

We decided to stay upstairs for The Stills set, but made a point of finding a fantastic sight line for their show. It should be noted that I'd abandoned the waters by this point, and that the bartender from the night before was more than willing to fulfill our orders for White Lightnings without batting a lash.

The Stills are consumate professionals, and their show reflected this. Flawless musicianship, great stage presence, and a deep catalogue of great tracks of which you'd probably be surprised by how many you found yourself singing along to. Lola is a great track. Still in Love is solid. And Being Here is probably in the conversation for the best pop song to come out over the course of the past 365 days, the live version of which, on this night, literally gave me goosebumps all over my body. It was sensational. They also played Everything I Build, which apparently is a big deal because until this night, they'd never attempted it live before.

In all, it was a ridiculously phenomenal night of new music, capping off a ridiculously extraordinary two-night showcase. The people at Arts & Crafts should be absolutely beside themselves with swagger for the display of talent they unveiled on these two nights, and they should be commended for their vision and foresight, and for believing in the kinds of bands that might not otherwise get the chance to strut their stuff.

And despite the fact that our collective livers took an absolute shellacking over the course of the 4-day weekend, I, for one, cannot wait to do it all again next year.

Friday Diversion

2009-06-19T02:22:00.005-04:00

A little something to help you nurse 2-nights-worth of NXNE's binge drinking hangover. As always, here is some of the best reading I've come across over the past little while. And if you think I'm doing any more than giving the token links at 2:30 in the morning after watching 5 bands-worth on a Thursday night, you're out of your mind.

A&C not just BSS
By Benjamin Boles

Most of the reason that I'm currently in the state I'm in.

The Power Game
By Wright Thompson

Ballin' with the Barack. I, for one, could not be more thrilled with the fact that basketball is at long last replacing golf as the go-to game in the world of high-powered politicians and professionals.

Show or Tell
By Louis Menand

A history of Creative Writing programs. Can the art form be taught? Let's explore the subject, shall we?

By the way, if you were planning on hitting up NXNE in Toronto this weekend, seanmccallum.com could not possibly recommend any stronger that you check out The Bahamas at Supermarket at 10:00 pm Friday night. They are ridiculously good.

The YouTube clip of the week needs to be clicked HERE in order to be viewed. It is Springsteen's Walk Like A Man, performed live at the Shoreline Amphitheatre in Mountain View, CA, in May of 1988.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

NXNE 2009 - Arts and Crafts Showcase - Night 1

2009-06-18T18:17:00.005-04:00

From The National Post:

Celebration hung thick in the air last night at Arts & Craft records first night of North by Northeast. When Leslie Feist popped out to play with Broken Social Scene it felt very much like we were watching the very best band in the world. That most of the group had been onstage already -- the Happiness Project, Apostle of Hustle and Jason Collett had already played sets -- gave the whole thing a reunion-type raise your glass vibe. It was especially fun watching it with the kids in Still Life Still, Arts & Crafts newest signees, who threw down the Jaigermeister like Motley Crue...

Read More HERE

Ummm... Apparently Post reporter Ben Kaplan was slightly more coherent than I was last night, so you'd be better served reading his revue of the show than anything I'd be able to tell you at this point. Because it's 6:30 pm, and I'm still savagely hungover.

If nothing else, that's an indication of the type of party it was.

Despite the boozy haze that is currently serving in the place of memory from last night, what I can tell you is this: The guys at Arts and Crafts put on an absolutely stellar showcase at The Courthouse.

My buddy Browner is kind of a big deal in the record industry, so he was able to get me on the guest list for this exclusive gig. I'm telling you, you know you're catching an impressive NXNE lineup when Jason Collett is on in the 8 o'clock slot. I have been digging Collett's straight ahead rock and roll for quite some time, and his new material did not disappoint. His set was phenomenal, as always.

The Years / Happiness Project set was totally cool. For those unfamiliar with The Happiness Project, Charles Spearin interviewed some of his neighbours about the topic of, you guessed it: happiness. He then set their words to music. The result is something magical, and to see it live was part beautiful, part touching, and entirely impressive.

It was at about this point that things began to get a little fuzzy for me. Browner and I were throwing back the beverages like it was nobody's business, and when we ventured upstairs into the quasi-VIP area (I say "quasi-VIP" because obviously any area that grants me access can't be solely reserved for very important people. I'm thinking that "Moderately Important" would be a more appropriate description), things escalated rapidly. The fact that we were amongst nothing but record executives and rock stars really only added to the binge drinking festivities. I'm pretty sure Feist was hitting on me, but she probably doesn't remember. I generally have that effect on award-winning female indie rock artists.

The Apostle of Hustle set was out of this world, but the truth is, I was way too drunk to really appreciate it. They have the kind of latin-rock sound that I totally dig, and I'm looking forward to seeing them again at a time when I'm not expending so much energy simply trying to see straight.

By the time Broken Social Scene took the stage, I; like many others in attendance; was having a hard time standing up. 7/4 Shoreline is probably one of the 10 greatest Canadian rock songs ever recorded, and it absolutely blew the roof off the place. The new material absolutely kicked ass, the horn section was utterly destroying, and if I had been capable of motor function, I would have been shaking my money maker into the small hours of tomorrow... But I couldn't give you a song title if my life depended on it. Maybe these will help:

In all, it was an unbelievable show. I hope the rest of the world is ready for what hits them when the new BSS record emerges.

The second part of the showcase goes down tonight, with Zeus, The Most Serene Republic, Timber Timbre (their new album is out of this world), and Still Life Still. I have to say, I have seen the way the guys from Still Life Still party on a number of occassions, and I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am to see them on stage. Oh yeah, and there is also an unannounced special guest slotted in for the midnight set.

Looking forward to a repeat performance tonight. Now, if I can only manage to mix in some bottles of water with the countless bottles of beer I will invariably be tossing back, I might actually be able to provide some semblance of a coherent review for you tomorrow...

Don't hold your breath.

Public Service Announcement: Avoid Stop-overs at Simon Bolivar Airport, Caracas, Venezuela

2009-06-17T00:03:00.004-04:00

I know someone who recently spent some time in a nameless South American country. This friend of mine shall also remain nameless, because most of the people he works with were unaware of his working abroad, meaning that he's basically had to keep it hush-hush. In any event, he wanted me to pass along the following Public Service Announcement to the dotcomrades:

Stay away from Simon Bolivar International Airport... Like... For real.

After landing safely in Caracas, Venezuela, this friend of mine had an 8-hour layover between the hours of 5pm and 1am. He figured he'd just kill the time by finding a good cup of coffee, maybe some internet access, and putting a dent in the current memoir he's currently consumed by (Pulitzer Prize winner Rick Bragg's All Over But The Shoutin). But alas, it simply was not meant to be.

For beginners, this friend of mine had to wait in an immigration line that lasted for 80 minutes, and by the time he got to the customs inspector; just as it always seems to happen in the movies; he was told that he was in the wrong line.

I have it on pretty good authority that he wanted to kill himself.

From there, he made his way down to Air Canada's ticket desk so that he could acquire his boarding pass. The only problem is, Air Canada doesn't have a ticket desk, or any visible form of representation to speak of, at Simon Bolivar. Instead, this friend of mine was told to wait at Gate 15 for 6 hours, and that a boarding pass would be given to him there at some point.

It was shortly thereafter that this friend of mine began walking the halls of the terminal; afterall, he had some time to kill. After two trips up and down the dark and lonely halls, he sent the following text message to a select group of friends and family members:

No list of "The World's Most Depressing Places" would be complete without including the airport in Caracas, Venezuela.

In an attempt to kill time, this friend decided to sample some of the local cuisine, but the best available option in the terminal was a Burger King. Adding further insult to injury was the apparent fact that Simon Bolivar International is the only airport in the world that does not accept American money, meaning that one is left with the option of exchanging their remaining currency into Bolivares... The subsequent exchange rate and gouging techniques ensured that this particular friend of mine paid $15 USD for a Whopper combo...

It was finally time to sit down with that much anticipated cup of coffee, but just as this friend of mine was ordering, an airport security official walked up to him and said: "Excuse me, but are you Mr. _______?"

Now, I am no expert on the ways in which airport security officials conduct their daily affairs, but I'm pretty sure that when one of them approaches you in line at a coffee shop and asks for you by name, it is never a good thing.

This proved to be the case in this instance as well.

Apparently, this friend of mine was told, there had been a problem with his luggage, and he needed to accompany the security official.

(It should be noted that this friend of mine speaks only a token amount of Spanish, and that the security official spoke even less English, making for more than a few awkward pauses)

As it turned out, the lack of an Air Canada office at this particular airport also meant that there was a lack of Air Canada personel in order to transfer the luggage from vessel to vessel, meaning that this friend of mine's luggage had effectively been going around on the luggage carriage for the past 3 hours, despite the fact that, since this friend of mine had been turned away from customs, he wasn't even allowed into the baggage claim area. Good times.

He had to exit through security again (remove all items, put them through the metal detectors), claim his backpack from someone at LAN, and then pass through the same security he'd gone through less than 5 minutes ago (remove all items, pass through metal detectors). The good news was, all of his possessions were now in one place. The bad news was, he now had to walk around the most depressing place on the planet with all of his possessions.

Also, Game 5 of the NBA Finals was taking place at that very moment. What do you think the chances were of finding that particular programming on one of the TVs in the terminal's only bar? Wait, it probably wouldn't have mattered, because everything in the airport closes at 10pm. So make sure you load up on $15 Whoppers before 10, and be sure that when you convert your money into Bolivares that you acquire some coins, because the vending machines do not accept anything larger than 1 Bolivar coins... And if you think that just because the Duty Free Shop has 8 cash registers that they'll be able to break a 10 Bolivar note for you, you're kidding yourself.

When the Air Canada "employees" (airport cleaning staff wearing suspect looking AC pins) eventually showed up to give this friend of mine in and to give him his boarding pass, they did so at a makeshift podium in the middle of the terminal hallway. I suspect this friend of mine didn't feel all that confident handing over his passport, and probably questioned the fact that the Air Canada "employee" put a yellow sticker with his seat number on the back of his passport as a means of assigning a seat... Also, all of the employees were wearing various versions of gas masks, because apparently most Canadians are currently carrying the Ebola virus.

This friend of mine wanted everyone to know that he got home safe and sound despite the hiccups at the airport, and despite the fact that he had the middle seat on the red eye next to a 320 pound man which, as you might expect, resulted in precisely 0 minutes of sleep.

Luckily however, this particular friend enjoyed an amazing two weeks abroad which included, among other things: drinking copious amounts of Cusquena in quite possibly the only bar in South America that was showing Game 7 of the Wings-Pens series; getting dominated by a girl by 38 points in a game of Hoop Fever; finding a black market vendor to sell him the Back to the Future trilogy on DVD for $3; experiencing a power outtage on a Friday night in a bar which, as soon as the lights went out, officially declared a state of "CERVEZA GRATIS!!!"; and realizing that he'll probably be spending a hell of a lot more time down there in the future.

The next time, however, my friend has assured me that the trip will not include a layover at Simon Bolivar.

Friday Diversion

2009-05-28T23:22:00.003-04:00

A little something to pass the time as you contemplate exactly what Lebron James will do Saturday night... As always, here is some of the best stuff I've come across over the past few weeks.

Up On The Roof
By Verlyn Klinkenborg

National Geographic's look into the world of Green Roofing. This is a great primer for those looking to get the Coles Notes version of the benefits of vegetated roof assemblies.

The Break of the Curveball

Professor Art Shapiro shows us how the spin of the curveball acts as an optical illusion. What is not an optical illusion, however, is Barry Zito's 9 figure salary.

It's Made of 100% Cotton; It's Sales are 99% Ironic
By Mike Musgrove

A more thorough look into the magic behing the phenomenon of the Three Wolf Moon T-shirt...

Thanks to Llibs for the link

Asbury Park Club From Springsteen's Glory Days Set for Auction
By David M. Levitt

If I had any kind of money laying around, I'd be in Asbury Park June 18th... Why can't I just be independently wealthy?

Thanks to DJ Smitty for the Real Estate tip

Ava's Apartment
By Jonathan Lethem

For those who are into the work of Jonathan Lethem... Or for those who ever just wanted to leave it all behind... Or for those who are fascinated by 3-legged pitbulls...

The YouTube clip of the week comes courtesy of Allan Cross and The Ongoing History of New Music. I was driving home from softball (of the co-ed, non-competitive variety) Monday night and heard this track... My question is: how have I gone the duration of my life without ever having heard Steinski & The Mass Media's The Motorcade Sped On? This is one of the greatest mashups of all-time.

Witness:

2009-05-23T20:02:00.001-04:00

Wow.

What more can you say about Lebron James? I think that the confession of my mancrush is perfectly acceptable at this point.

Must-Have Consumer Product Showdown

2009-05-20T20:29:00.006-04:00

Sony Releases New Stupid Piece Of Shit That Doesn't Fucking Work
(NSFW Language)

Vs.

Three Wolf Moon T-Shirt

Before you make you're decision, you need to be aware of the powers of the Three Wolf Moon T-Shirt. The following are taken from the comments section of Amazon.com:

Exhibit A - This item has wolves on it which makes it intrinsically sweet and worth 5 stars by itself, but once I tried it on, that's when the magic happened. After checking to ensure that the shirt would properly cover my girth, I walked from my trailer to Wal-mart with the shirt on and was immediately approached by women. The women knew from the wolves on my shirt that I, like a wolf, am a mysterious loner who knows how to 'howl at the moon' from time to time (if you catch my drift!). The women that approached me wanted to know if I would be their boyfriend and/or give them money for something they called mehth. I told them no, because they didn't have enough teeth, and frankly a man with a wolf-shirt shouldn't settle for the first thing that comes to him.

I arrived at Wal-mart, mounted my courtesy-scooter (walking is such a drag!) sitting side saddle so that my wolves would show. While I was browsing tube socks, I could hear aroused asthmatic breathing behind me. I turned around to see a slightly sweaty dream in sweatpants and flip-flops standing there. She told me she liked the wolves on my shirt, I told her I wanted to howl at her moon. She offered me a swig from her mountain dew, and I drove my scooter, with her shuffling along side out the door and into the rest of our lives. Thank you wolf shirt.

Pros: Fits my girthy frame, has wolves on it, attracts women

Cons: Only 3 wolves (could probably use a few more on the 'guns'), cannot see wolves when sitting with arms crossed, wolves would have been better if they glowed in the dark.

Exhibit B - Unfortunately I already had this exact picture tattooed on my chest, but this shirt is very useful in colder weather.

Exhibit C - I am getting married this August and this is the only item on my registry. I hope to get hundreds of them.

Wow, those are some pretty glowing reviews for both products. But I think in this case, I'd have to go with the Wolf Shirt. Because let me tell you, I once received a similarly emblazoned wolf blanket in one of those family Chirstmas gift exchange deals, and I can tell you first hand that the powers of the blanket are strikingly similar to those which are being described with regards to the shirt... The bottom line is, when girls see the Wolves, they invariably remove their panties.

By the way, since when did Amazon.com begin selling clothing?

Thanks to Micah and DJ Smitty for passing along these two indispensible products.

Winnebago Man

2009-05-20T01:35:00.000-04:00

(Language is NSFW... Obviously)

We'll go ahead and call this a sneak peek into a day in the life of a lowly blogger.

How I've gone the duration of my life without seeing this clip before defies explanation... And coming from a family who once owned one of these luxury machines (1978 Minnie Winnie), believe me when I say that my dad would be able to sympathize with each and every last F-bomb.

I believe the director of Winnebago Man put it best when he said of Jack Rebney: "He works in swear words the way some men work with oils..."

Thanks to Leigha for the tip.

We've Found Our Intern...

2009-05-19T18:28:00.004-04:00

For quite some time now, we here at SeanMcCallum.com have been toiling long and hard with the prospect of hiring an intern to help carry the load. Up until now, it's been an impossible decision. Do I risk compromising the *Quality* of the content at the reward of a little extra free time with which to drink $10 beers in the 500 level at the Rogers Centre? What if the new intern writes something offensive and gets me in a whack of legal and moral trouble? Or most importantly, what if the Dotcomrades simply don't like his/her brand of humour?

Fortunately for everyone involved, however; through an act of what can only be described as divine intervention; the perfect candidate has fallen into our laps, all but making the decision for us.

His name is Nicholas G. Christakis.

3 Bankruptcies. 6 Civil Actions. And 1 Franchise Ice Cream Cafe... That, folks, is a resume that speaks for itself.

This was a no-brainer right from the start. I mean, the guy loves rockin' and rollin'... No more need be said. And did you see that camera work? I'm telling you, you won't recognize this blog by the time Nick Christakis is through with it. We'll be nationally franchised with so many connections and the best mentors money can buy, and you throw in the W2s and the 10-99s and whatever it is, and there's simply NO STOPPING US! I mean, you heard the man, didn't you? He takes one with two and makes three!!! And those BOOKS!!! In the past PM before the AM... The guy never stops.

You heard it from the man himself: he is the Donald Trump of the Future...

Thanks to Flats for the referral.

*Quality*, in this case, is a strictly relative term.

By the way, gun to your head, who do you hire first? Christakis or Spud? I think I'm going with the perfectionist.

Sports Guy Chap Wrap

2009-05-18T23:20:00.004-04:00

Just in case you didn't have a spare 7 hours to follow along at home last Thursday night, here are the highlights from the Sports Guy's marathon chat during one of the biggest (read: worst) days in the history of Boston sports. To refresh your memory, Thursday consisted of the Red Sox losing in 12-innings to the Angels, the Celtics blowing a huge lead in game 6 of the Eastern Conference semifinals, and the Bruins losing in OT to Scott Walker and the Carolina Hurricanes... As you might well imagine, in the hands of a die-hard Boston sports fan, this made for fantastic, misery-riddled writing.

The chat consisted, for the most part, of sports fans from around the world ripping on David Ortiz, comparing Stan Van Gundy to Ron Jeremy, and witnessing the re-emergence of playoff hockey on the ESPN stage. Listed below are some of the highlights.

(By the way, as great as this chat was, it was seriously tainted by the revelation that Bill Simmons is now available on Twitter... What the hell is the world coming to?)

Steve (Marlborough, MA): DEAR GOD. Ortiz has made the third out in the 4th, 6th, 8th, 10th and 12th innings, leaving runners stranded in scoring position each time. This reminds me of when I was a kid and my dog got so old that she couldn't make it up and down stairs anymore. What's the over/under on games before Ortiz gets a phantom injury and a trip to the DL? (Yes I sent this before Ortiz was officially out, but we both knew it was coming)

Bill Simmons: Papi just ended the inning with a 10-foot grounder. I will now light myself on fire.

Bill Simmons: What coffee table book would be shorter: "Dwight Howard's Most Effective Low Post Moves" or "Stan Van Gundy's Nicest Suits?"

Keith (Blacksburg, VA): Both those coffee books would be epic volumes compared to "Times Bill Simmons Thought Better of Making a 90210 Reference"

Bill Simmons: …Is it just me or does Paul Maurice look like he should be hanging around a playground in a van?

(moments after Milan Lucic tied the Bruins-Canes game at 2-2):

Bill Simmons: A game-winner from Looch followed by him cold-cocking Walker in the handshake line would make him the new Paul Revere in Boston.

Bill Simmons: Hold on, Carolina turned it up a notch... yeeeesh. Playoff hockey should be sponsored by Marlboro Reds.

Robbie (Pound Ridge, NY): On a scale of 1-10 how much more interested are you in this game if it's the whalers v. bruins? BRING BACK THE WHALE!

Zo, (Arlington, VA): Bill, do you think that Pau Gasol was named Paul as a kid, but some kid out-rebounded him for the the 'L' during a pick up game?

Josh (Hoboken, NJ): Bill-- just thought I'd bring up that every player on the ice tonight have as many HR's as David Ortiz...

Bill Simmons: Please stop. No more. I am waving the flag.

Friday Diversion

2009-05-14T22:33:00.006-04:00

A little something to help psych yourself up for your annual leap over a burning outhouse at an obscure private campground in Sauble Beach... Yep, it's the May long weekend in Canada, meaning that summer is officially here. As always, here is some of the best reading I've come across over the course of the past 7 days...

Don't!
By Jonah Lehrer

Flying in the face of all things May Two-Four, here's a little piece explaining the virtues of self-control. Tom Petty famously wrote that the waiting is the hardest part; Lehrer explains why it's probably in your best interest to do so.

Gladwell-Simmons II: Ultimate Rematch
By Malcolm Gladwell and Bill Simmons

Two of my favourite writers go toe-to-toe in an email exchange discussing everything from Larry Holmes and Boxing Heavyweights to Jennifer Aniston and the NBA draft lottery.

His Irish Diaspora
By Alex Witchel

A beautiful look into the life and work of Colm Toibin. How's this for a poetic description of the Irish disposition?

In a public symposium about 9/11 at the library he used the expression “an Irish face.” An audience member asked what that meant. “I said, ‘I mean someone whose eyes are soft but his jaw is hard, who can look very stubborn, who can remain silent for a very long time, who’s capable of immense love but never mentioning it and capable also of resentments, who’s never much owned anything and is happier looking at the horizon than other possessions.’ ”

Thanks to Unkle Mike for the piece.

Canada's Dan Dawson named NLL MVP
The Canadian Press

What. A. Legend.

The Night Baseball Returned to Toronto

2009-05-13T15:44:00.005-04:00

Last night was one of the most satisfying Jays victories in a long, LONG time. And forget the fact that Doc Halladay was looking like the second coming of... well, Doc Halladay, as he was feeding it to "the human contract year" all night long. This win went waaaaaay beyond glorious retribution.

Every year, it seems, the Jays have one of those games where the entire city is buzzing. It usually involves either the Yankees or the Red Sox, and it is usually early in the year when the faintest glimmer of hope for the current season is still precariously hanging in the balance. The sports talk radio stations are all onboard, the fairweather fans pack the stadium, and then invariably, the Jays go out and get their asses handed to them. People break their ankles jumping off the bandwagon, the Dome goes back to hosting the customary 17,000 fans per game, and the Jays fade into Toronto sports obscurity. It happens every year...

But it did not happen this year.

Before the season began, my buddy Browner and I were discussing the Jays prospects for the upcoming campaign. I figured they'd be lucky to win 70 games. He predicted 90 wins. His rationale?

"Because the Jays bats are a year better, and because I believe Brad Arnsberg is a genius."

I'm beginning to believe him.

Here are a few highlights from last night's festivities; AKA: The night baseball returned to Toronto.

- Riding the subway downtown at 5:30 pm and having each car absolutely rammed with people sporting throwback Jays lids, drinking tall boys in full view, and talking... wait for it... Baseball. It was surreal. It was glorious.

- Piling into The Loose Moose, tossing back a few pints with the rowdy pre-gamers, and having the entire place erupt into a chorus of boos when A.J. Burnett appeared on the TV screen...

- Missing the entire 1st inning because it took so long to get into the stadium... Wait... This is actually a low-light. Also, the roof was closed on one of the most perfect night's for baseball you will ever come across. Maybe the low-light of the year.

- Sitting in the wrong section by myself for half an inning and telling some lady that she had no idea what she was talking about when she said had a ticket for my seat... At what age is it OK to admit that you might be suffering the first signs of senility?

- Seeing the world's longest beer line in the 500-level concession stands and momentarily considering the possibility of going an entire ballgame without refreshments. Another low-light. Luckily, this temporary insanity quickly dissipated and we devised a plan. But needless to say, the Rogers Centre staff were slightly ill-prepared for the onslaught of 43,000 thirsty fans.

- Booing A.J. Burnett with a loathing customarily reserved for Vince Carter. I was thrilled with the ferocity of the crowd last night. At one point, I turned to the guy sitting next to me (I was in the right section by this point), and wondered why it couldn't be like this for every game? Because really, there's no reason it couldn't. Why not get on the pitcher and ride him all game long? Why not derisively chant his name when he gives up a run? Why not get on the other team's best player and chant "Sterrrr-Roooiiiiids!!!" every time he comes to the plate? That reminds me...

- After A-Rod fouled off a pitch in the later innings, the fan who caught the foul ball up the first base line tossed it back onto the field. This really could become the greatest tradition in all of Toronto sports. Foul ball tainted by A-Rod? I'd rather get kicked out for throwing it into the field of play. As long as we don't let this guy into the stadium, this could actually catch on.

- Coming to the realization that Aaron Hill looks like a poor man's Mickey Mantle... Seriously.

- Coming to the realization that, unlike most other Jays-Yankees games, the ratio of Jays-to-Yankees fans last night was approximately 10-to-1 (whereas in the past, the stadium was usually 1/3 Yankoffs). You could probably attribute this to the fact that it was a Tuesday night, and that nobody in their right mind would travel to see this current version of the Bronx Bombers, but still... It felt good to have a true home crowd in the seats.

- Having Joe Girardi leave A.J. Burnett in for the 8th inning, giving us one last chance to send him off in style:

- Watching Roy Halladay throw an absolute gem, and having the crowd get behind him every time he ran the count to two strikes. There were times where you would have sworn you were in a baseball city...

- Leaving the stadium and coming to the realization that, unlike back in the glory years of 1992-1993, this was a much younger and raucous crowd than I could ever remember. Back in the early years of the SkyDome, it was virtually impossible to get tickets. It was nothing but business people and the privileged few who managed to know someone with access. Unfortunately, that's what happens when you're the hottest ticket in town, and it almost invariably results in a morgue-like atmosphere. I vividly remember the Dome being referred to as the world's biggest library during those years.

But it's funny how 15-years of futility can alter a fan base. Because now, not only can you get a ticket to any game you want, you can actually afford to go to the games. $12 tickets throughout the entire 500-level is probably the best marketing ploy the Jays brass has come up with since Flashback Fridays. And the plain truth of it is that you would have never had a crowd with the demographics of like last night's crowd (young, rowdy, predominantly working class, drunk... everything a good baseball crowd should be) back in 1993. And believe me when I say that that is a good thing; not only for baseball in Toronto, but for the city as a whole.

I can't sit here and tell you that this season will end up with a World Series appearance or even a playoff berth. But what I can tell you is that it will be a hell of a lot more fun going along for the ride than it has been in years past. Because, as of last night, baseball has officially returned to the city of Toronto.

How To Touch as Many Balls as Possible

2009-05-12T12:45:00.003-04:00

I really don't know what to make of this guy... Sure, I'd like to get my hands on as many balls as possible... I mean, who wouldn't? But really, wearing two different hats to a game? If some dude sitting in front of me at the Jays-Yankees game tonight tries to pull that stunt he can surely expect a Delgado bath and a swift kick to the groin.

As for learning the different languages, we'll chalk it up to a gross missallocation of resources on this guy's part and suggest that somebody have a chat with him about his priorities (for all intents and purposes, this dude might as well have the word VIRGIN tattooed across his forehead). Because I can tell you that I've attempted this "learning a catchy phrase in the native tongue" approach with girls in foreign countries and I can say with complete certainty that 60% of the time it works every time...

The best explanation for this guy's success, however, comes from the YouTube comment section:

No self respecting adult brings a glove to a game. They must think this kid is retarded thats why they give him a ball.

Thanks to Flats for the tip.

Friday Diversion

2009-05-08T11:32:00.001-04:00

In the past 48 hours, I have managed to acquire 4 tickets for the first two rounds of the NCAAs in New Orleans in March, my hockey team capped off a dream season by winning the third and decisive game of the OTHL finals in double-OT, and I caught Springsteen and the E Street Band absolutely rocking the shit out of the ACC (Louie Louie...? Are you kidding me?). In each case, alcohol was prominently involved. You'll have to forgive my lack of personalized write-up for each piece.

As always, here is some of the best writing I've come across over the course of the past little while.

How David Beats Goliath
By Malcolm Gladwell

A simple handbook describing how to play "insurgent basketball". Needless to say, The City All-Stars will be looking to implement the full court press next year. Because if a group of 12-year old girls can ride this style to the championship, just imagine what a group of finely tuned athletes like ourselves would be able to accomplish...

(There's much more going on in this piece than simply basketball, but you get the idea)

Confronting My Worst Nightmare
By Bill Simmons

The perfect account of just how Manny's positive test will affect Red Sox Nation. This is brilliant.

Prison Awaiting Hostile Bloggers
By David Kravets

Duly noted.

Thanks to Flats for the tip.

Springsteen at the ACC - Tonight at 8pm

2009-05-07T12:04:00.002-04:00

A little something to get the juices flowing...

We learned more from a three minute record, baby, than we ever learned in school...

Fun Times in Cleveland

2009-05-05T23:16:00.003-04:00

Over the course of the past two years, I have spent roughly 8 weeks of my life in Cleveland, Ohio. And I have to be honest: I'm kind of a fan. And really, what's not to love? The Jake is a great place to catch a ballgame, the streets are buzzing with Lebron-fever, and you can buy a vodoo doll of Art Modell on any corner. It was also the city that Rick "The Wild Thing" Vaughn made famous, and it just happens to house one of the 10-best tourist attractions in the United States. But the gentleman who was commissioned to create the following "Hastily Made Cleveland Tourism Video" has a somewhat conflicting view.

In his own words:

The Cleveland Tourism Board gave me 14 million dollars about 8 months ago to make a promotional video to bring people to Cleveland. As usual, I waited till the last minute and I ended up having to shoot and edit it in about an hour yesterday afternoon. I probably should have invested more time.

My favourite selling features for the Forest City (Mistake on the Lake?) include:

- You should come on down to West 6th Street... It's the perfect place if you're a douchebag.
- Our economy is based on Lebron James
- Our main export is crippling depression

First attempt:

Second try:

Fun times in Cleveland, indeed.

The Art of Driving

2009-05-01T19:23:00.004-04:00

Editor's Note: Last month, we here at SeanMcCallum.com reluctantly ventured into the shady world of copyright infringement. 35 Days later, with no sign of an impending lawsuit, we're continuing on with the aforementioned experiment. So enjoy the reading while it's free, and keep this service in mind should I ever approach you looking for help with my bail bond.

I vividly remember taking my driver's test when I was 16 years old. Foster, my driving instructer; who, ironically, I would share many, many alcoholic beverages with in the coming years in my buddy Sully's basement; left me with his car for the morning, and I passed without incident. To that point, it was one of my proudest achievements. I couldn't wait to pile into the family station wagon with all of my friends and cruise the hopping mad suburban streets of Oakville, ON, impressing girls with our mobility while attempting to somehow relive the scenes of a latter-day American Graffiti. And how did I celebrate this glorious newfound freedom? By taking the bus back home, because nobody came to pick me up.

In any event, I vividly remember how terrifying it was trying to learn how to drive. As you might imagine, my parents had completely opposite schools of thought where driving instruction was concerned. My mom would take me out in the family sation wagon; an '81 Buick Electra; and would basically have a heart attack at every turn, giving terified warnings of potential hazards miles in advance and screaming for me to keep my eyes on the road to the point where I'd eventually just pull over and let her drive... My dad, on the other hand, would get in the passenger seat of his 1980 VW Rabbit that had neither 1st gear, 5th gear, nor Reverse, and would basically crank the radio and fall asleep, leaving me struggle with stalling the car at every stop light... There was also the one time he famously made me the designated driver while having had a few too many drinks at my grandparents' place, but that's another blog entry altogether (to be filed under the illegal-things-we-did-while-in-the-care-of-my-parents category).

But none of the stories I've ever come across with regards to driving even come close to what Peter Hessler encounters in China.

This is one of my favourite articles of all-time, and it chronicles one American's experiences with the fledgling culture of cars in the far east. It is hysterical, informative, and terrifying, all at the same time. I simply can't get enough of the ways in which the car rental agencies in China operate, as evidenced in the following exchange:

...Mr. Liu inspected the Jetta and noted cheefully that the plastic cover for the right signal light had been smashed. He asked what I had hit.

"A dog," I said.

"Gou mei wenti?" he said. "The dog didn't have a problem, did it?"

"The dog had a problem," I said. "It died."

Mr. Liu's smile got bigger. "Did you eat it?"

And I'm not sure what is more frightening: the fact that as of the time of this article's publication (November, 2007), China had approximately 28 automobiles for every 1,000 people (approximately the same rate the U.S. had in 1915) and that that number will only continue to increase with time (the implications for global oil consumption could be staggering); or that Hessler recounts an episode where he attends a driving school which is forced to cancel their afternoon lesson after the entire class; including the instructor; gets completely wasted at lunch.

Basically, all you need to know is that, despite the fact that China has only 3% of the world's vehicles, that same country accounts for 21% of the world's traffic fatalities... And this piece explains exactly why.

Wheels of Fortune: The People's Republic Learns to Drive

By Peter Hessler

National Lampoon's Tin Pan Vacation - Part 2

2009-04-28T00:55:00.002-04:00

Editor's Note: This is Part 2 in a two-part blog entry chronicling the dysfunctional family adventures of my family's most recent vacation. Part One - Tin Pan South - can be found HERE.

I awoke Sunday morning on the couch at my sister and Blake's place with a screaming hangover and a cold fried egg sandwich thrust in my face, the words "we're leaving in 10 minutes if you want to come with us" playing the part of fingernails to my pounding head's chalkboard. When I opened my eyes, Bubba's panting tongue was less than 6 inches from my face as he sat there half-expecting me to just hand him my breakfast. Little did I know that this would be the high-point for me on this day.

I stumbed out of the house just as Blake was pulling into the driveway. Having been back in Guelph for his Grandfather's funeral, there was no way he would be able to join us in Florida because he couldn't afford to miss any more time at work. There was little doubting that it wouldn't be the same without him, but we assured him we'd see him on our way back through Nashville the following Saturday. We gave him a big hug goodbye and set out for the 14-hour drive to Cape Coral, FL.

Let me just tell you a little something about The Cadillac of Minivans: the discrepancy in comfort levels between sitting in the diver's seat while in control of the radio and the air conditioning and sitting as the 6th man in the back corner, completely buried in garbage and gear whilst hungover and wanting to kill yourself is absolutely apalling. Ronnie was driving on this morning, and about an hour in I told him that, in all likelihood, I was going to puke. Everyone just laughed and we kept driving. I have a great family. I held a plastic bag in my lap for the better part of an hour, just in case. It was awful.

Not much to tell about the drive other than the fact that it was excessively long and that in the state of Georgia, there are more "massage parlours" for truckers than I ever imagined possible. And not that I would ever question the legitimacy of these highly reputable institutions, but if you're going for a legitimate massage, does it matter whether or not that particular medicare-endorsed facility has "AMERICAN GIRLS-LATINO GIRLS-ASIAN GIRLS!!!"? I'm just saying.

To tell you the truth, I don't even know where I took over driving. The entire day is kind of a blur. That's what a night spent throwing back Velvet Elvis's will do to you. All I know is that my parents were following behind us in the VW, and I was about 85% certain that they would be getting a divorce as soon as the vacation ended. We took 20 minute detour in search of a Starbucks (I am officially a coffee snob - I now know that for a fact), and instead had to settle for a Dunkin' Donuts, which more than sufficed.

Again, the details of this particular drive are clouded in a DT infused haze, but I'm pretty sure that as soon as I took the wheel, the rest of the passengers in the Cadillac of Minivans began drinking heavily. A bottle of Grey Goose was prominently involved, as were some coolers and Diet Buds. At one point, while stuck in an inexplicable midnight traffic jam on a lonely stretch of Florida highway, the need for a "rest room" arose in a hurry, prompting a poor man's makeshift two-girls-one-cup reenactment in the back seat of the van. Believe me when I say that this was not the high point of my life.

In any event, we eventually pulled into Cape Coral around 2:00 am. Ronnie had rented a beautiful house backing onto a fantastic lagoon in a gated community, and we were miraculously allowed inside the gates of said community. After the hellacious 14-hour drive, we had finally arrived. There was nothing I wanted more than to crack an ice cold beer in our beautiful vacation property, to be engulfed in all of the comforts of home, and to then go to sleep in my very own bed...

But when we pulled up to the house, something was awry. To begin with, there was a van in the driveway with Ontario plates... Maybe just to scare off any potential intruders, we told ourselves; you know, with the bad economy and all... But when Ronnie went to find the key in the agreed upon hiding place, there was no key to be found. So the logical means to handle such a situation, obviously, was to begin pounding on the door so as to find out exactly what the fuck was going on... Did I mention that it was 2 o'clock in the morning, that we had been driving for 14 hours, and that we were in a gated community?

When the poor people occupying their/our house refused to answer the door, Ronnie began calling the home phone, resulting in what one can only assume was one of the 10 most awkward conversations of all-time, recreated in a fictional account here for your enjoyment:

Squatters: "Ummm... What the fuck?"
Ronnie: "Yeah... Ahhhh.... We're like... right outside the house right now?"
Squatters: "No shit. My kids are screaming right now becuase they're terrified of the crazy dysfunctional family on the front lawn. What the fuck do you want?"
Ronnie: "I think we're supposed to be staying here this week..."
Squatters: "Well, we're leaving at 10 o'clock tomorrow morning... Why don't you try coming back after the maid leaves at noon..."
Ronnie: "Ummm.... Ohhhhh-Kaaayyyy... I guess I'll get things straightened out with the owner..."
Squatters: "Do whatever the hell you want... The police are on their way..."

And so it went. The next thing we knew, we were exiting the gated community with a cop car riding my bumper, in search of the appropriate play. My parents were less than thrilled. As we drove through the deserted Florida night past endless Walmart, Target, and Publix parking lots, my dad eventually pulled up beside us and announced that he and my mom were, under no circumstances, paying for a hotel. Instead, they would be pulling into one of the deserted parking lots and spending the night in the car. Again, how this family vacation did not end in my parents' getting a divorce is beyond explanation.

Ronnie somehow convinced them that sleeping in the car was not the best course of action, and they eventually followed us to the Days Inn where Ronnie was gracious enough to pay for the rooms. As my dad elucidates in the following video, if forced to describe the situation in two words, he would have to go with: FUCK UP.

Poor Ronnie. He just wanted for us all to enjoy some good old fashioned Griswold-style family fun, and it wound up resulting in one of the all-time clusterfucks, proving once again the old adage that no good deed goes un-punished.

But I have to say, no family deals with adversity quite like my family. Where others might turn on one another, we simply turn to the bottle. And instead of bitching and moaning about the fact that some of us had to share a bed with my vader-machine-sporting and three-quarters naked father (I was also three-quarters naked, for the record; and you could have landed a 747 in the space between us on that double bed), we just laughed hysterically about the fact that it wouldn't be a family vacation without some kind of boderline-foreseeable disaster. The Fort Myers Days Inn is clearly a locale that will go down in family lore along with such distinguished vacation hot spots as Lincoln Park, Michigan, and Birdsnest, Virginia.

We awoke in the blazing heat of a South Florida Monday morning and proceeded to hit up the local Denny's like a poor man's Phillip Banks. It was probaby one of the 5 dirtiest restaurants I've ever been in, but what do you really want for $4 a pop? After breakfast, we loaded up on groceries at the local Publix (wine, vodka, tequilla, Diet Buds, Yeungling... and some food as well) and then attempted, for the second time in 12 hours, to garner access to our vacation rental. No problems whatsoever this time... Funny the difference in reception you'll get arriving somewhere at 2:00 am as opposed to 2:00 pm...

But I have to say that the place was well worth the wait. A fantastic house with beds for everyone except me (Lisa and I were the only ones sans date, and the twin beds in the "Unicorn Room" just weren't working for us - I think it may have had something to do with my propensity for snoring like a locomotive after a night of throwing back cans of Yeungling); a ridiculously glorious screened in pool; and a backyard overlooking a wildlife-filled lagoon. It really was the perfect homebase for a week's worth of dysfunctional family fun... Which we proceeded to take advantage of with gusto.

The first few days were spent pleasuring... errr... pleasing ourselves. Ronnie and Little Buddy went fishing, the girls went on shopping expeditions, my dad stayed home and complained... It was what each and everyone of us had envisioned when we signed up three months earlier. I was actually working for the week, which meant that I was essentially tethered to the place for four days, but believe me when I say that I wasn't complaining. If I could work poolside every day in nothing but trunks and a Bosh jersey, cranking the tunes in the sunshine all day and partaking in happy hour at four o'clock every afternoon, there'd be no need for weekends. It really was the Life of Reilly.

Our evenings went a long way in substantiating a suspicion I've long had: that my family, when we get together, essentially revert to a state of functioning alcoholism. Seriously. Every single afternoon, it was an endless stream of Diet Buds, Margaritas, Red Wine, good bourbon inexplicably mixed with Diet Dr. Pepper... We'd eventually find time to eat something, and then we'd stumble down the street to the local Starbucks for a second wind. As darkness set, we'd usually slip into some kind of a family (drinking) game. One night it was Euchre. The next it was 1980s Trivial Pursuit. The girls put together a little cheerleading routine one night and Little Buddy taught the toddlers next door how to say the work "FUCK" in a variety of different contexts. There was even a riff on charades one night (with my dad thowing out obscure movie titles from the 1940s as a means of stumping us), something that I'd never seen my family partake in. Eventually, people would start to fade off, I'd make a couple of ill-advised drunken phone calls, and then I'd wind up passing out on the couch only to be awoken a few hours later to my dad and Little Buddy watching John Wayne movies at full volume at 7 in the morning.

And so the days and nights passed... Until Wednesday. On this particular day, with most of the family long gone, Lisa, my dad and I (well, Lisa mostly) decided we would spend the better part of the afternoon doing a shot every half-hour. 3:30 was Tequila. 4:00 was Bourbon. 4:30 was straight Vodka... You get the idea. By the time the rest of the family returned, we were three-quarters in the bag. How Ronnie and I managed to make dinner that night is beyond me, but I believe it's more a testament to how foolproof BBQing hamburgers is than any indicator of our culinary proficiency. And if there were ever any doubt as to how drunk the two chefs on this night actually were, at one point we found ourselves in the bathroom completing the killer-crossover like a couple of 7-year olds at summer camp while the burgers were grilling... Sorry family.

So it should come as little surprise, then, that by about 10:30 that night, the entire household was completely green. Some were passed out on the couch. Others were watching YouTube clips on their laptops in their respective rooms... It was a pretty sad sight to behold. It was at about that time that I decided to deal with a minor emergency by getting on the phone out front of the house. There I was pacing back and forth, talking away, not really paying attention to anything. I'd probably been out there for a solid half hour when a large and rather imposing figure came walking down the street. I had no idea that it was Blake until he was about 5 feet away from me.

Imagine running out of Grey Goose at an Italian wedding, and multiply that level of surprise by 1,000. In the words of Rob Goldenburg: I was shocked. I could barely muster anything beyond a cursory "what the fuck are YOU doing here?". Blake was giggling like a schoolgirl and he asked me to go inside to get Lisa, but not to tell anyone because he wanted to surprise her. Fair enough, I thought, and went into the palace of green to see if I could track down my sister. I don't even know how I managed to coerce her outside without raising suspicion. I just said that I needed to talk to her about something, she assumed it was girl trouble, so she followed me without thinking twice. We walked outside the house, and I assumed that Blake was on the other side of the garage. I said to Lisa, "Hey, do you know who's dog that is around the corner?" It was the best I could do under the circumstances. I she walked around the corner and I walked back into the house, not wanting to stand in the way of romance.

Inside the house, everyone was still completely greened out and in various states of recline. I was kind of half-giggling to myself, anticipating how the party vibes were about to pick up with the addition of Blaker. I had no idea just how much those vibes were about to change.

Two minutes later, Lisa walked into the house with tears in her eyes, and to no one in particular, announced: "Ummm... Blake is here... And I'm getting married..."

You cannot imagine the scene that unfolded. It is no secret that everyone in my family already thinks of Blake as being part of the family. You really couldn't ask for a better brother-in-law, and I'm not just saying that because he knows how to fix things that Ronnie and I can't, because he's a better hockey player than either of us will ever be, or because he routinely prompts Ronnie to drink himself beyond oblivion. He's just a great guy, and we all know how lucky we are to have him. Couple this with the fact that my sister's engagement officially took all of the pressure off of Ronnie and I (let's just say that my mom's grandmotherly biological clock is ticking...), and you could say that there was some minor jubilation in the air. We looked like a bunch of sunburned, unathletic white guys celebrating a World Series clinching dinger. My sister was crying. My mom was crying. We were pouring Blake drinks and shots and trying to wrap our head around how the fuck he managed to get down there without anyone knowing. And all the while, my dad was just sitting there smiling. He'd known all along. I have no idea how he kept this to himself. Good on ya, big guy.

(It turns out that Blake, wanting to ask my dad for his blessing in person, had been unable to do so because of his having to return to Guelph for his Grandfather's funeral. So as it turned out, he'd called the night before on the pretense that there was something wrong with the car. When he got my dad on the phone, he told him that he had a pretty important question to ask him... You get the idea. After they had discussed the issue - I'm assuming this took about 15 seconds - Blake said... "Alright... Well, I'll be there tomorrow at 10..." and my dad said "Great. See you then", and then hung up, as if Blake were stopping by to help chop some firewood or something. Pretty much standard procedure for Deeve.)

Anyway, as you might well imagine, Blake's arrival re-ignited the party, and we basically stayed up all night drinking, taking photos of Lisa's ring, and rehashing the story of exactly how Blaker was able to pull it all off. It turns out that after all of the secret details and unforseeable detours involved in getting to Cape Coral, he hadn't accounted for my staning out front of the house and talking on the phone for half an hour, meaning he'd spent that entire time hiding in a bush... Sorry about that.

It should be noted that while Blake was getting ridiculously drunk with Ronnie, Little Buddy and me, Lisa was updating her Facebook status and making a list of everyone she was dying to call first thing in the morning, highlighting once and for all the difference between guys and girls.

We spent most of Thursday hanging around the pool, but ventured out of the house to play a game of beach volleyball at the community center. As you might well expect, security stopped by to check in on us (I'm trying to decide whether it was the drinking of Keystone Lights in public or my climbing a Palm Tree to retrieve the ball that did it...). In continuing her hall of fame week, my sister absolutely dominated at beach volleyball. I have no idea how this happened. As if it weren't enough that she got the looks and the musical talent... I think I need counseling. Also, my dad made his beach volleyball debut on this afternoon. He could easily pass for an All-American.

We spent Good Friday like true Christians and hit up the IHOP for country fried Steak and Eggs, and then made our way to Fort Myers Beach. The beach itself was absolutely beautiful. Powder white sand, hot sunshine, warm water... It was also spring break... High School spring break. Let's just say that if I ever have a son, I will be bringing him to Fort Myers for his 15th birthday. It obviously would have been rude for us not to partake in the spring break fun, meaning that my mom hooked us up with some classy T-shirts which read: "SPRING BREAK 2009...WASTED!!!". Good times all around.

We figured we'd take it pretty easy Friday night, seeing as we had to be up early Saturday morning to drive back to Nashville. As you might well imagine, the first step in taking it easy on your last night is stopping in to the local liquor store on your way home from the beach and buying 36 beers and proceeding to drink a large percentage of those in the parking lot while Little Buddy and Jess were in buying steaks for dinner. We ate like kings that night, and managed to get the hot tub cranked to an obscene temperature, sitting around and drinking until the wee hours. It was the perfect end to a fantastic week, and just when it seemed like things were beginning to wind down, Little Buddy decided that he would put on a show for us. I think the following video pretty well speaks for itself. But in Cavan's defence, there were $5 on the line, so it's hard to blame him:

We went to bed sometime after 2:30 am, and my dad woke me up at 5:19 am. I wanted to kill myself. We packed up as best we could, and then piled into the van. As you might well imagine, Little Buddy was in fine form. It probably didn't help that he polished the remainder of that Jagermeister while the van was running in the driveway at 6:30 am, but to each their own. We loaded up on caffeine at the local Starbucks, and then hit the road for Nashville. Ronnie bet Little Buddy $60 that he couldn't shut up for 4 hours, leading to one of the most hilarious attempts at improvised sign language I have ever seen. Blake had piled into the car with my parents and had left about an hour earlier than us, and at one point we exchanged the following text messages:

Blake: Hey, what mile marker are you guys at?

Sean: Mile marker: HELL

It was a fairly accurate depiction. Eventually, the riff raff in the back fell asleep, and Lisa and I spent the next few hours listening to tunes and planning out her wedding. When we got back to Nashville, it was about 7:30 at night, we were beyond exhausted, hungover, and sick, and the entire group of us were essentially not speaking to one another.

Yep, I'd call it another perfect dysfunctional family vacation.

Thanks so much to Ronnie and TVB for making it happen, to my parents for keeping it together, to Blake and Lisa for allowing us to crash at their place in Nashvegas and for providing the highlight reel wedding proposal, and to Little Buddy and Jess for the laughs. Looking forward to doing it all again... Well, sometime soon...

Texts From Last Night

2009-04-27T12:25:00.004-04:00

http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/

Wow. This might be the greatest website of all-time. And let me tell you, if you go through this entire list, you may just stumble upon some of the beauties that I've sent in my day, the vast majority of which originating from the couches of various friends in foreign cities (I'm looking at YOU leather full-length in Flats' North End living room).

A few of my personal favourites include the following:

(817): My mom caught just caught me jerking off...in her room.

(713): Hope the move went well! I'll miss you!

(832): you are a cunt and I hated living with you and your skeezy boyfriend.Just thought I'd get that out there.

(212): guess who was drunk and crawling in the middle of the road and got brought home by the police last night? HINT: ME

(908): i may or may not have been spotted by tourists while getting head in the vicinity of the jefferson memorial

(870): do you think it i'm gay because i was in a 3 way lastnight?

(1-870): well not if you dont touch the other dude and concentrate on the chic

(870): what chic?

Happy Inebriating and Merry Texting!

Thanks to Browner for the link.

Putting Them Out of Their Misery...

2009-04-22T17:56:00.005-04:00

This will undoubtedly be the last time we will have to listen to those select few fans who choose to boo the American National Anthem, an act so despicable that I won't even justify it with a clip. And obviously, I know that it is only a few (thousand) people that give the rest of the fan base a bad name, but it really is a disgusting display when it happens (every year), and it leaves a black eye on the entire country.

So if anyone is going to the game tonight, take a page out of the good people of Edmonton's book, and make a name for yourself by doing something that your entire country can really be proud of:

(I have probably seen this clip 300 times and it literally never gets old)

And this one ain't half-bad either:

On a side note: if it weren't for sporting events, would we even remember the words to our respective National Anthems? Think about it... When was the last time you sang your National Anthem at an event that didn't involve some kind of a game?

See, dad? I told you I'd be able to come up with a reason for you to appreciate sports!

Billy Bob Thornton is a ReeeeaaaaL DICK

2009-04-20T23:53:00.000-04:00

Seriously, what did my good friend Jian Ghomeshi ever do to anybody aside from falsely proclaiming that he was once the king of Spain?

I really didn't think that BBT would ever be able to sink lower than his whole AJ-blood-vial fiasco, but I think this definitely gives that little phase a run for it's money. These are 13 of the most painful minutes you're ever likely to come across; think of the Letterman-Phoenix episode, minus the humour.

But as is the case in most instances, bad chemistry makes for fantastic unintentional comedy. Cudos to Jian for keeping it real, and for submitting my second favourite moment in Q's short but glorious history, coming a close second to the time he had the following exchange with Barbara Walters (10:30 mark):

Babs: "Where are you from, Iran?"
Jian: "Yeah...Well... I'm from Thornhill, actually..."

Thanks to Micah for the clip

A Picture of The Future

2009-04-20T22:26:00.003-04:00

I had a great little entry all ready to go about how this particular painting was the ideal work of art for me. How it was the perfect mix of abstract design, literature, and politics, and how the artist was gracious enough to allow me to acquire it despite the fact that I'm in no way even remotely close to being able to afford it.

But in light of the events of the past 24-hours, I think I'll simply let the piece speak for itself.

We'll miss you, Argi.

National Lampoon's Tin Pan Vacation - Part 1

2009-04-19T11:39:00.008-04:00

Editor's Note: This is part one of a two-part blog entry chronicling the dysfunctional family adventures. Part One includes The Tin Pan South Festival; Part Two will include debaucherous tales from Cape Coral, FL, and can be found HERE.

I have a dysfunctional family. And I know that all families are dysfunctional in their own unique ways, and that it takes a certain amount of dysfunction in order for a family to be able to function in the day-to-day grind of modern life, but still... My family is ridiculously dysfunctional. And nowhere is that dysfunction more apparent then when we attempt to go on vacation together.

The mishaps and disasters of vacations gone wrong are accumulated in the McCallum family lore in the same way that other families collect fridge magnets or key chains from the places they've visited, and they run the gamut from moderately inconveniencing to outright calamity: the car breaking down and leaving us stranded in some place we'd rather not be (this seemed to happen on every vacation throughout the 80's); the new family dog snapping and biting my sister; camping through tornadoes; having my aunt back the car over my baby sister's car seat while my baby sister was strapped into that car seat; my brother falling into the fire; my dad almost drowning; the family motorhome catching fire on the outskirts of Detroit... You get the picture.

They're the things that happen when you spend a lot of time together with the people you love, and I wouldn't change it for the world. Because really, what the hell would I have to write about if not for my family?

It is with this mindset, then, that my family embarked upon our most recent vacation: Nashville, TN for Tin Pan South, and Cape Coral, FL for some fun in the sun.

---

This particular adventure began on a sad note, as the McEwen family (my sister's boyfriend's family) lost a legend in Ken McEwen. I attended the funeral Friday morning with my Aunt Vicki, and it was a beautiful and fitting tribute. It's never easy to lose a loved one, but having such a close group of family and friends certainly helps to ease the pain. My sister sang a gut-wrenching rendition of Amazing Grace (it is such a cliche to say so, but there literally wasn't a dry eye in that church), and Blake delivered a beautiful speech on behalf of the Grandchildren, the highlight of which was Blaker explaining how his grandfather taught him how to back up a trailer (something I will never be able to master), and Blake describing his grandfather drinking beer from a wine glass by simply stating: "That was how he rolled". Fantastic stuff.

After returning back to Toronto in the afternoon, I basically just sat around and waited for Ronnie and my cousin, Little Buddy, to pick me up. The plan was to pick up the minivan we had rented (from the conveniently located airport location), then pick up TVB and Jessica (my brother and cousin's significant others) from their respective workplaces, then come back to my place to drop off my brother's car, and then venture out on our 12-hour drive to Nashville... This particular tasklist involved crisscrossing the City of Toronto 3 times... Did I mention that it was 4:30 on a Friday afternoon and that it was pissing rain? The term "clusterfuck" really doesn't do this scenario justice.

By the time we actually got out of Toronto, it was after 7:00 pm and I wanted to kill myself. But we were driving the Cadillac of Minivans, we were hopped up on fast food and caffeine, and a week's worth of fun in the sun awaited us, so the vibes were relatively top-notch.

What can you say about a 12-hour drive through the dead of night that hasn't already been said? We stopped at the Windsor Duty Free to load up on Grey Goose and Diet Bud, and then Ronnie took us into Ohio, which is where I took over somewhere around midnight. After Ronnie and Little Buddy indulged in a few neat Grey Gooses from the bottle, we eventually settled into a pretty solid rhythm, with Jess on her iPhone, Ronnie and TVB asleep in the back, and Little Buddy... well, keeping me awake in shotgun. If there's one thing my cousin is good at, it is verbal jousting. To steal a phrase from Springsteen's '78 tour, we had a lengthy discussion about my cousin's vocation, which involved a eureka moment where he admitted: "You know what? I really don't know what the fuck I'm talking about!", which led to a week's worth of "fact-or-fiction" postulations. All in all, a highly productive exchange of late night repartee.

With the mist rising off the rolling Kentucky hills in the early dawn, Little Buddy and I began speaking in unrhymed iambic pentameter as we commented on the beauty of the setting we found ouselves in. An hour later, our GPS machine went on the fritz at the exact moment we needed it, meaning that we were essentially left to our own devices to try to find my sister's place (I'd never been there before). After a quick phone call to my parents, we pulled into 1837 Loney Ave. just after 7:30 on Saturday morning. Unlike our previous all-night drives to The Volunteer State, there was neither cold beer nor a DVD-player full of porn awaiting us upon arrival. I guess my Mom and The Money Shot just have differing ideas of what hospitality is supposed to entail. Hey, I don't judge. But Mom, seriously... next time? Beer and porn. You can't mess with tradition.

(My parents had gone down to Nashville the week before for Tin Pan South, and when my sister and Blake had flown back to Guelph for the funeral, my parents had remained in town to attend the festival and to take care of Bubba the dog. Lisa was flying in Saturday morning for her show that night; Blake would be getting into town Sunday.)

After having been awake for more than 24 hours, I was more than ready for a mid-morning siesta, which I happily took, being awoken a mere 7 times by my parents coming in and out of the bedroom for God only knows what reason. I eventually gave up on the whole absurd notion of peaceful respite around noon, and joined what was quickly taking on the appearance of a party in my sister's front yard (on the drive down from Toronto, it was snowing as we came through London; in Nashville the following afternoon, it was sunny and 75 degrees). Tossing around the pigskin, sipping on a few Diet Buds, playing with The Money Shot's new son Aiden... We eventually went for lunch and to stock up on liquid provisions (The Money Shot took me to J. Barleycorn's where I was able to get my hands on some Dogfish Head Midas Touch {one of the finest beers I have ever had the pleasure of tasting}, Raison D'Etre, and the 90 Minute IPA. In all honesty, if live near an outlet that has these beers, you're doing yourself a true disservice by not imbibing. Read this article, and I defy you not to try the Palo Santo Marron. Diet Buds will be a thing of the past. I was also able to score a jar of moonshine and a bottle of Russell's Reserve, which I would highly recommend to Bourbon lovers the world over), before returning to Loney Ave.

Let me just tell you that if you've driven all night and followed it up with 3 hours worth of oft-interrupted sleep, and then you begin to drink Bourbon and beer weighing in at 9% in the Tennessee sunshine, it doesn't take long for you to become intoxicated. We had the tunes blaring in the front yard, and eventually wandered over to the neighbours' house to sit at their picnic table they have set up on the front lawn (gotta love Tennessee). We offered Gerry and his wife some beer (they politely declined the Dogfish in favour of a few diet Buds), after which we began talking about travelling. I shit you not, the following conversation ensued:

Gerry: "Y'all 're from Canada... So I guess y'all must do some travellin', huh?"

Me: "Yeah. I actually just got back from Peru..."

Gerry: "Peru, huh?...Yeah, I used to travel all the time with my job... This one time I went to Michigan..."

Gerry's Wife: "Ya know? I just don't understand why people travel... Did you know that there are places in the world where it's NIGHT TIME right now? I mean...Why the hell would you ever want to go somewhere where it's NIGHT TIME right now...? That's just crazy..."

Again: you gotta love Tennessee.

But Gerry and his wife were true sweethearts, and it was great to sit at that picnic table on their front lawn in the fading afternoon sunshine, drinking beers and learning about just how different people can be.

Before we knew it, it was time to pile into the Cadillac of Minivans, road rockets in tow, and to head off to my sister's gig at The Listening Room. To say that the ride over was a little stressful for my sister would be an understatement (a van-full of drunken idiots yelling directions and spilling beer as she drove to her show at which we would surely make complete asshats of ourselves by uttering inappropriate comments at inopportune times...), but we eventually got the The Listening Room in time to scoop the reserved seats that were very obviously not reserved for the likes of us... As a wise man once taught me: walk in like you own the place and nobody will say boo... And yes, it often helps if you are drunk.

Tin Pan South is one of those music festivals; like South by Southwest and The New Orleans Jazz Festival; that I've been dying to get to for quite some time. The venues are always intimate, the talent is top-notch (my parents saw an acoustic set by Hanson the night before... Yeah, that Hanson), and there's that feeling of industry hipster cool surrounding every event that never gets old. And The Round at The Listening Room was no exception on this night.

Lisa McCallum; Michael Logen; Michelle Wright; and Lauren Lucas. There was literally more talent on the stage than anybody knew what to do with.

Some of the supreme highlights included Lisa's renditions of Chip On Her Shoulder, Simple, and Better (I would be lying if I said I didn't have a lump in my throat for the closer). Michael Logen did a beautiful song about his Grandmother (Ocean Floor). Michelle Wright is a Canadian Country Legend, and her presence on stage never ceases to amaze. She truly is the consumate professional. And Lauren Lucas absolutely dominated her guitar, and did a rockin' little tune entitled I'm Ready For A Ring (to which my sister responded, in a fitting piece of foreshadowing: "Amen, sister").

And of course, throughout the set, the beverages kept flowing, meaning that by the time it was all said and done, Ronnie and I were talking fantasy hockey with The Moffatts (a couple of great guys and, by all accounts, phenomenally talented songwriters), and I was carrying around my sister's guitar case in an attempt to impress women... An act not dissimlar to walking around Hollywood and telling people that you're an aspiring actor: in other words, impressing exactly nobody.

From The Listening Room, it was off to 12th and Porter to catch a round which included one of the greatest living songwriters and SeanMcCallum.com favourite, Lori McKenna. Again, drunk and acting like I owned the place, I was able to convince one of the people working the door that this particular web-based forum constituted a legitimate media outlet, meaning that I was allowed in the door before anyone else. Much to my delight, then, when I walked into the bar and found Lori up on stage, doing her soundcheck. I said "Hello", she called for security, and the rest, as they say, is history... OK, she didn't really call for security, but she probably wanted to, wondering, as I was, how this idiot managed to creep his way into her soundcheck.

In any event, I grabbed the best barstool in the joint and began ordering White Lightning's and Velvet Elvis's like they were going out of style while awaiting the arrival of the rest of my drunken coterie... When the great unwashed were finally granted access, the place filled up almost instantly, as you might well expect.

This particular round included Lori McKenna; Grammy Award winner Chris Tompkins (Country Song of The Year for Before He Cheats); Liz Rose; and Jesse Walker. You'll have to forgive me if my memory is a little hazy on this one, but here is what I recall from this particular show:

Snapping a shot of the greatest photobomb in the history of mankind; Little Buddy and Jess not getting into the show and instead deciding to go barhopping on Broadway; being told to shhhhh on multiple occasions; having Ronnie and TVB not willing to shhhhh-themselves and instead choosing to go back to the Cadillac of Minivans for a wee nap; inducing a variety of Electrical Storms and variations on the form for anyone within 50 feet of me; buying Jagerbombs for the bartenders because I was "on vacation"; answering the question: "Tell me what this tastes like" with "That tastes just like a VELVET ELVIS" to the shock and amusement of everyone involved; being absolutely blown away by Lori McKenna; laughing my ass off at Tompkins' raucous piano version of Before He Cheats; having my sister and Steph request Make Every Word Hurt; Lori McKenna playing a heartbreaking version of Make Every Word Hurt; at the conclusion of Make Every Word Hurt, having my sister turn to me with tears in her eyes, saying "I cried through that entire song", the announcing of which apparently roused my dad from his momentary slumber as he announced "I slept through that entire song... what just happened?"; buying Lori McKenna a drink and having her accept it, thereby completing one of my lifelong dreams; talking to Lori McKenna after the show and telling her that she was on my Mount Rushmore of Songwriters along with Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, and Tom Waits (still undecided as for whom this was a bigger highlight: her or me); inviting Chris Tompkins back to my sister's place for the "Afterparty" (I term which I clearly use quite liberally); having Chris Tompkins accept on a condition that I'm not at liberty to print; asking for my bar tab and almost having an aneurism upon seeing the total...

Yes, it was one of those nights.

We all piled into the Cadillac of Minivans, and I honestly have no idea how we got home. One can only assume that my saint of a mother was behind the wheel. My dad had left the bar sometime before us, and we found him in the back seat of the van eating sunflower seeds, treating the apholstered floor like it was a little league dugout. By the time we got back to the house, Chris Tompkins was wailing away on my sister's upright piano in one of the most prolific displays of ivory tickling these eyes had ever seen. We would shout out a song, and he would play it. The absolute highlight/lowlight was the following rendition of Thunder Road, which was essentially note perfect on the piano, but bastardized by my family in a way that will probably see us spending eternity in a very warm place:

I can't believe that I messed up the words. The terrible singing voice I can live with. In fact, I take a certain masochistic pride in the disparity between my horrific pipes and the angelic ones of my sister. But screwing up the lyrics to one of the 10 greatest songs ever written is simply indefensible. I blame it on the Velvet Elvi.

I don't even recall what happened after that. I think I fell asleep on the couch with Bubba licking my face. By all accounts, it was the perfect conclusion to a perfect conclusion to Tin Pan South.

Friday Diversion

2009-04-16T23:19:00.003-04:00

After a two week hiatus, the Diversion is back with a vengeance. Feel free to print some of these out and leave them on your boss's desk so he won't notice the fact that you've ducked out for a 3-Martini lunch on some hopping mad Queen Street patio as you soak in the sweet sunshine of the first spring-like Friday afternoon of the year. As always, here is some of the best reading I've come across over the course of the past... well... awhile.

Guy Walks Into a Bar Car
By David Sedaris

I have yet to come across anything by David Sedaris that doesn't make me laugh. Quite simply: he rules. Here is his tale of a chance encounter in the smokey bar car of a train taking him back home after breaking up with his boyfriend. Good times all around.

Economy Vs. Environment
By David Owen

Owen (author of Green Manhattan, one of my favourite pieces to ever appear in The New Yorker) uses Canada and the Kyoto Protocal to explain how the greatest threat to the environment, as always, is prosperity:

The explanation for Canada’s difficulties isn’t complicated: the world’s principal source of man-made greenhouse gases has always been prosperity. The recession makes that relationship easy to see: shuttered factories don’t spew carbon dioxide; the unemployed drive fewer miles and turn down their furnaces, air-conditioners, and swimming-pool heaters; struggling corporations and families cut back on air travel; even affluent people buy less throwaway junk. Gasoline consumption in the United States fell almost six per cent in 2008. That was the result not of a sudden greening of the American consciousness but of the rapid rise in the price of oil during the first half of the year, followed by the full efflorescence of the current economic mess.

Coming Down To Earth: Barack Obama's Progress

The Economist takes a look at the first two months of the Obama Presidency.

Thanks to Browner for the link.

George Brett Shits His Pants
By George Brett

This video clip (NSFW language) is good on so many levels. The story itself, segwaying into an even better one. His readily admitting that he's good for that "at least twice a year". The guys inching away from him throughout the entire ordeal because they're genuinely disgusted and don't want to hear another word but aren't in a position to say anything about it because he's George F'ing Brett... But my favourite part has to be the end, after the 13-time All-Star has just finished describing in the most graphic detail imaginable his previous adventures in loose-bowel-mishaps, when he concludes by asking matter-of-factly: "Who's the pitchers in this game?"

That's what makes a true Hall of Famer.

Thanks to DJ Smitty for the link.

Glory Days: A History of The Horseshoe Tavern

I came across this one afternoon and found it fascinating. If you've ever seen a legendary show at the legendary Tavern, you owe it to yourself to know the history.

T.O.'s Best Brunch
By Steven Davey

A look at Toronto's best places to nurse your hangover, catalogued according to 'hood. SeanMcCallum.com highly recommends Aunties and Uncles at Lippincott and College, and The Get Real Cafe at 135 Ossington for the vegan in you. For the best cup of coffee in town, check out Cherry Bomb at 79 Roncesvalles Ave. (about a block north of Queen)

The YouTube clip of the week comes from TS in the 705, and it isn't even a YouTube clip at all. Instead, it's a CNN piece that highlights the various ways in which it is perfectly acceptable to be involved in a Bromance. Who knew that Guyland would be going mainstream so soon?

Click HERE for the clip.

For the complete history of Bromances, check out The Sports Guy's latest Mailbag, in which he tackles the following subject:

Q: Do you think the relationship between Rocky and Apollo could be considered the original bromance?-- Kevin McB, Oakland, N.J.

SG: No way. The original bromance was Lewis and Clark. I'd break down the others like this: Costanza and Seinfeld (funniest); Norm and Cliff (second funniest); Diggler and Rothchild (third funniest); Borat and Azamat (grossest); O.J. and A.C. (most controversial); the Rat Pack (most influential); Kimmel and Carolla (drunkest); Puffy and Biggie after Biggie died (most shameless); Flintstone and Rubble (best animated); Mike and the Mad Dog (most tragic); Kurt Warner and Jesus (most inspirational); Jules and Vincent Vega (most violently entertaining); McEnroe and Fleming (most one-sided); Kobe and Shaq (most destructive); Lincoln and Derickson (most suspicious); Damon and Affleck (wealthiest); Tom and Jerry (most psychotic); Cagney and Lacey (just kidding); Michael Jackson and Emmanuel Lewis (openly creepiest); Bob Crane and John Carpenter (secretly creepiest); Spade and Farley (best one-time chemistry that couldn't be recreated, even by them); King and Favre (most gushing); Lennon and McCartney (most successful); Parker and Stone (most creative); A-Rod and Jeter (most contrived); Clapton and Harrison (biggest backstab); Chuck D and Flava Flav (most unlikely); Siegfried and Roy (best romance bromance); McConaughey and Armstrong (most appearances without a shirt); Bauer and Almeida (most exciting); Wilbon and Kornheiser (most reliable); De Niro and Pesci (best mafia); Redford and Newman (coolest); Simon and Garfunkel, Malone and Stockton, Madden and Summerall (tie for "best fit"); Scottie and Michael (most titles); Hanks and Scolari (biggest disparity of talent); Rocky and Apollo, Daniel-San and Miyagi, Buck and Aikman (tie for "most uncomfortable"); Clooney and Pitt (most overrated); Kirk and Spock, Tango and Cash (tie for "most unintentional comedy"); McNulty and Bunk, Big Papi and Manny (tie for "most underrated"); T-Mac and Vince (least likable); Felix and Oscar (best contrast); and Red and Andy (the greatest bromance ever), with Red and Andy's beach hug in Mexico doubling as the single greatest bromance moment. Thank you and please drive through.

Playing for Change - Stand By Me

2009-04-16T17:41:00.003-04:00

It is no secret that I'm a sucker for cover tunes. In fact, I have long been considering writing a definitieve All Time Top-10 Cover Tunes blog entry. Apathy and a healthy dose of good old-fashioned procrastination have prevented that particular entry; along with about a thousand other potential Pulitzer-worthy pieces; from seeing the light of day. But rest assured, when that little piece of uninformed opinion is finally put together, there is a very good chance that this rendition of the Ben E. King masterpiece will make the cut.

Not only is Stand By Me one of the 25 most beautiful songs ever written and the title of the greatest movie of all-time, but it was also the first dance at my buddy Foley's wedding this past summer. Those are dangerous waters to tread, to say the least. But even with the justifiably daunting and impossible-to-top history of the original, this version somehow managed to give me chills. Just a brilliant rendition.

Thanks to Deeve for the link.

Toronto's Proposed Green Roof By-Law

2009-04-15T17:54:00.004-04:00

There's no doubt that the blog has sucked for the past two weeks. My most sincere apologies. Let's just say that the combination of a family vacation and the responsibilities that occassionally arise from having what some might consider to be a "real job" don't exactly make for ideal blogging conditions.

How to get back on track? Why not combine the latter with this particular entry, and follow that up with the dysfunctional play-by-play of the former?

Consider this the first step in the triumphant return.

Go Green On Top, or Face $100,000 Fine, City Proposes
By Allison Hanes

Toronto is poised to become the first city in North America to make green roofs mandatory on most new buildings and set standards for their construction.

A city committee yesterday considered a proposed bylaw that would require roofs on new buildings with an area of 5,000 square metres or greater to be 30% to 60% covered by vegetation. The bigger the building, the more planted space it would have to have--otherwise fines of up to $100,000 could be levied.

As drafted, the bylaw would cover mid-to high-rise condos, retail space and office towers, but exempt low-rise, large-scale industrial, nonprofit housing and public buildings such as schools...

To read more, click HERE

Let me begin by saying that I've been actively involved in the drafting of this proposed by-law, sitting on various consultation committees and offering my opinions to both members of City Council and those involved with Green Roofs for Healthy Cities. And the fact that the City of Toronto is taking the required steps to move forward with this revolutionary by-law (the first such by-law in North America) just reaffirms my belief that I truly do live in the greatest city in the world. But by no means is this by-law the panacea for all of our city's various environmental ills. The fact is, this particular by-law has a loooooong way to go, and it leaves a great deal to be desired.

Is it a step in the right direction? Unquestionably. But it needs to have more than a few details ironed out, and it needs to have it's proverbial bar raised more than a few notches if it hopes to have any kind of appreciable impact.

You'll find below a copy of the letter I recently sent to Steven Peck, President of Green Roofs for Healthy Cities. It maps out the specific areas where I believe the by-law needs to be improved. Most of you probably won't care about the specifics, but for those looking to be able to speak intelligently about the by-law's shortcomings, here are your coles notes:

(To see the Draft By-Law, click HERE)

As a resident of Toronto and a firm believer in the benefits of vegetated roof assemblies, particularly in densely populated urban areas, I believe that it is of the utmost importance that, where green roofs are concerned, they need to be done right. That is to say, that they need to be specified with the aims of long-term sustainability and long-lasting durability in mind. Because in my opinion, the worst possible outcome for the green roof industry as a whole is to have institutions, businesses, and individuals sinking money into poorly designed and installed vegetated roof assemblies, resulting in inevitable failures that will invariably tarnish and damage what could otherwise be a magnificent step in the right direction for this city.

It is with this mindset that I have compiled the following thoughts for your consideration with regards to the City of Toronto's proposed Green Roof By-Law. I hope that you find these to be well informed, and of some use.

Important Considerations:

- Pertaining to Section 2 - Definitions

In Section 2, in defining the waterproofing membrane, the document stipulates that the membrane is the system “that resists hydrostatic pressure”.

I believe it is of the utmost importance that the waterproofing membrane in a vegetated configuration is one that is designed specifically to withstand hydrostatic pressure. In a vegetated configuration, the membrane should be a true waterproofing membrane, and not simply a water-shedding membrane. It is no secret that the membrane in a vegetated configuration will be under ponding water for much of its service life, and the membrane should be designed for these specific conditions (ie, if a membrane’s warranty is customarily voided when the membrane is under water for a period exceeding 48-hours, that particular membrane should not be considered to be in accordance with the Green Roof By-Law Standards for the City of Toronto).

- Pertaining to Section 5 – Waterproofing

When considering the type of membrane in a green roof system, I believe that the best possible system is a membrane in an inverted configuration, as conventional roofing membranes allow for water to saturate the insulation in the event of infiltration. Over a period of time, a minor breach in a conventional membrane will allow moisture to creep over a vast area of the insulation, thereby rendering that insulation ineffective and resulting in massive heating and cooling (energy) losses, eventually resulting in premature failure of the entire vegetated assembly.

I believe that the best possible membrane configuration for a vegetated roofing assembly is a fully adhered waterproofing membrane in an inverted configuration. A fully-adhered, inverted membrane will ensure that, should any water infiltrate the membrane, that water will have nowhere to run (provided that the membrane is fully adhered to a concrete deck). Furthermore, with a membrane in an inverted configuration, there will be no concerns regarding the saturation and subsequent ineffectualness of the poly-iso insulation in the event of a breach in the membrane.

- Pertaining to Section 5.3 – Water Retention

The benefits of stormwater retention in vegetated roof assemblies have been well documented, and I truly believe that there needs to be some kind of minimum standard for vegetated roof assemblies where water retention is concerned. There is little doubting the possible benefits of increased stormwater retention in densely populated, urban areas, and the proposed By-Law’s ignoring of these benefits, in my opinion, shows a true lack of priority and foresight.

- Pertaining to Section 6.1 – Growth Media

I am uncertain as to why the City of Toronto is choosing to follow the FLL Standard where growth media is concerned. By no means am I a Certified Professional Horticulturalist, but in my experiences, I have yet to come across many plant species that thrive more so in rocks and clay than in organic matter.

Furthermore, the FLL Standard growing mediums offer limited benefits with regards to stormwater retention, and in-turn oftentimes require irrigation for the survival of the vegetation over the course of the assembly’s life expectancy; a practice, it should be noted, which essentially goes against every plausible advantage a vegetated roof is supposed to impart.

It should be noted that I believe the City of Toronto’s attempt to implement minimum standards with regards to Vegetated Roof Assemblies is a noble one. I would just prefer that they raise the bar a little higher than they currently have it set, as doing so will benefit us all in the long run.

Sincerely Yours,

Sean McCallum

UNC: Franklin Street Celebration

2009-04-07T15:41:00.002-04:00

Franklin Street: The Celebration from The Daily Tar Heel on Vimeo.

This is exactly what it was like last year after The Alfredo Griffins brought home their 4th consecutive Consolation Championship, right down to the girl in white dancing on the vandalized street sign.

By the way, can somebody remind me again why I didn't go to school in North Carolina?

Best. Photobomb. Ever.

2009-04-07T11:55:00.001-04:00

Tin Pan South details to follow...

Trail of Lies

2009-03-29T14:35:00.003-04:00

Great track... Fantastic video... Oh yeah, and this song just happens to have been written by one of the most talented up-and-coming songwriters on the Nashville scene: Lisa McCallum.

If you're hitting up Tin Pan South this week (and really, who isn't?), be sure to check out her set on Saturday night with Michelle Wright, Michael Logen, and Lauren Lucas at The Listening Room.

By the way, feel free to check out Katie Armiger while you're at it, and to vote for her song on the Great American Country countdown.