10 Days Off is a 10 day rave in Ghent, Belgium. About an hours drive from Lille. It attracts every kind of electro music you can think of.
This excursion into the middle of the Belgian club scene kind of came out of nowhere, seeing as I had no idea I was going until about 11pm. I had tried to go earlier in the festival, but all attempts to get there seemed to fizzle out. Luckily for me a free drive was on the table, and I immediately took it. I had already been in a daze when I left, considering I was drinking most of the afternoon, and inhaling some fine trees. We all piled into the car for an hour ride that seemed to go by in about 20 minutes. Might have had something to do with the incredible speed we were travelling at.
Obviously, more medicine was consumed upon arrival to the festival to offset the beer and greenery. The venue was very impressive; It was inside a very old Belgian building, renovated to accomodate such events, but kept the old style architecture inside and out. Thousands of people inside, completely lawless considering you can smoke inside, and basically do whatever you want. There were several rooms with different music styles to blow your mind, but we kept to the main room, mainly enjoying full bands rather than just DJs.
Heres a list of some of the people we saw:
Jonasty, from Belgium 23:00 - 02
Disko Drunkards, also from Belgium 02:00 - 03:00. These guys were pretty strange, but at the same time extremely entertaining to watch.
The Glimmers, Belgium 03:00 - 04:00. They were fucking awesome.
http://www.myspace.com/theglimmers
Who Made Who, from Denmark. 04:00 - 05:00. From what I can remember I thoroughly enjoyed their set.
http://www.myspace.com/whomadewhomusic
Then the Glimmers came back on once again, but sadly we had to leave at 7 a.m., as our driver was tired and sober. The next day was rough as hell, as I had to catch a train to Paris in the middle of the afternoon.
I hope I get another chance to check out this festival, because it was fucking insane. If you ever get the chance, absolutely take it. Blew any other electro festival Ive been to at home out of the water.
Anyways, probably wont be posting for about a week or so, as I am in Paris at the moment, no longer hung over, and am heading to the south of France for a bit. Going to soak up some serious sun and lots of wine.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Film Review: The Hurt Locker
Apparently this film came out in 2008, but received little to no press. At least to my knowledge. Considering I'm a movie junkie, its strange that I had never heard of it until this year. Especially since its been receiving rave reviews, which I don't really understand (more on that later). At the moment it has a 97% 'fresh' reading on Rotten Tomatoes.
Its a film about the current Iraq war, centering around Baghdad, and following a small unit of 'EOD'. Not sure what that stands for, but basically it means that whenever a bomb, or suspected bomb is found, these guys get called to defuse that shit. The film doesn't get sucked into the whole question concerning Iraq of 'oh, why are we here?'. All that rhetoric gets thrown out the window. As in my opinion, it should be, to leave room to create an authentic war film that shows human emotion and tragedy, rather than focus on the politics of it all.
Nevermind that many of the action sequences seem pretty un-realistic and border on a Rambo approach to defusing weapons, the content and story are enough to help you ignore such inadequacies. Just as an example though, the films main character, played well by Jeremy Renner (the bad-ass American soldier from 28 Weeks Later) is confronted with a trunk completely full of explosives, enough to level a block. He casually removes his bomb suit, and says 'well if I'm gonna die, might as well die comfortable'. Sure he has a point, the suit would not save his ass from vaporizing, but I'd imagine in the real world nothing of the sort would even be considered during combat. Not only that, but I'm pretty sure the U.S. military uses robotic-drones to diffuse such situations. But hey, this is Hollywood, and we demand to be entertained dammit!
The directing is pretty good, aside from constant and the 'sudden zoom-in, zoom-out' technique, where I guess the quick camera movement is supposed to empasize the drama. Its surprising that this film was well directed, considering the Director's (Kathryn Bigelow) less-than-stellar rap-sheet. It includes such 'classics' as the surfer-bank robbery film Point Break and the Russian submarine flop drama, K-19: The Widowmaker.
Addressing what I had said earlier about the films roaring reviews, some comparring it to Apocalypse Now (one of my favorite movies of all time) and some calling it 'one of the defining films of the decade', these assertions are gross exagerrations in my opinion. Without a doubt, its a good action movie based around the Iraq War, with enough drama and human emotion to keep it from being your run of the mill war flick. Comparing it to Francis Ford Coppolas masterpiece however, is a huge stretch.
8/10
(For reference, I'd give Apocalypse Now a 10/10).
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Film Review: The Hangover
Know those mornings when you wake up with little memory of the night of debauchery that just occurred, surrounded by evidence of events that you can't recollect? Well this film takes that feeling and blows it completely out of proportion. But in a good way.
Most of the results of the previous evening that these fellows had enjoyed are simply too ridiculous to believe. A strange baby, a tiger in the washroom, a stolen police car, and an 80,000$ debt to a Chinese gangster. Not your normal night out in Vegas. Although I've never been to Vegas...maybe its time to check it out. The whole movie is these guys trying to figure out how they got into these situations, right the problems that they created, all the while trying to find their best friend to get him home in time for his wedding. Its full of laughs, mostly overtly-crude humor, which I generally thoroughly enjoy. There's even an appearance by that weird dude who sings in Wedding Crashers and Old School (I think)...you know the guy. "I fuckin need you more than ever!". He puts in a great rendition of Fiddy's 'Candy Shop'. A highlight of the film for me.
Overall a pretty hilarious movie, albeit beyond stupid. Watch it, but leave your brain, logic, and common sense at the door. Maybe puff the magic dragon beforehand.
7/10
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Sky Force 6
'Sky Force 6 is a top-secret, elite, counter-terrorism, jet fighter unit that protects the world from the evil schemes of the planet’s most devious international terrorist organizations. Each week, Moondawg , Barnstormer and The Rookie, receive their mission from The Captain and with their macho, shoot-first-ask-questions-later attitude, they annihilate all evil-doers that are insane enough to take them on. Expect a high-flying, rapid-fire, edge of your seat, death-defying, adrenaline fueled, thrill-ride of adventure every week when Sky Force 6 take to the skies.'
Go to funnyordie.com to vote 'funny'. Voting 'die' will undoubtedly land you inside Sky Force 6's cross-hairs.
http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/05f431c205/sky-force-6-episode-1-four-score-and-twenty-migs-ago
Watch your six.
Sky Force 6: Episode #1 "Four Score and Twenty Migs Ago" from Matt Unsworth & Simon Bruyn on Vimeo.
Go to funnyordie.com to vote 'funny'. Voting 'die' will undoubtedly land you inside Sky Force 6's cross-hairs.
http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/05f431c205/sky-force-6-episode-1-four-score-and-twenty-migs-ago
Watch your six.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Tale From The Streets
The French have never really been known for their toughness, or willingness to fight. History of the past eighty years or so has shown us that. Yeah I know, Napoleon back in the day, blah blah blah, they tore a lot of countries some new assholes. But that was before tanks and the German Blitzkrieg that sent the French packing. And yes, I am aware that I am belittling my own heritage by writing this. But from what I've seen so far, the French cannot fight for shit. The country is full of lots of loud mouths who yap and yap, but when it really comes down to it and you confront them, they generally fuck off. These people who usually start these little scuffles are most likely wearing fucking track suits, coupled with street-soccer shoes. I don't really understand their hair style choices either. Heads shaved around the sides with the party on top. Kind of like Vanilla Ice. And we all know how rough he was.
Last night I was out bar-hopping with some friends, and was privileged enough to watch these guys in action. It doesn't matter what the fight was over, it was what occurred during the bout that mattered. I barely saw one punch thrown, and when one was thrown, it looked like more like a slap than anything. Half-fists flying down on heads from above, crooked wrists, people backing away, and running around in circles. It was as if the main objective of the fight was to simply avoid the other person as much as possible, and to see who could look like the biggest fairy. Not to mention that I saw at least four attempts at soccer-style kicks to the head, none of which connected, and usually resulted in the kicker falling on his ass. After witnessing such a display, I am going to find it even more difficult to take any of these ass-clowns seriously. Really the only thing they have going for them is that they all travel in packs. This is the only time they yell random things at passer-by's. And when they're alone...well, they're as quiet as a church.
Last night I was out bar-hopping with some friends, and was privileged enough to watch these guys in action. It doesn't matter what the fight was over, it was what occurred during the bout that mattered. I barely saw one punch thrown, and when one was thrown, it looked like more like a slap than anything. Half-fists flying down on heads from above, crooked wrists, people backing away, and running around in circles. It was as if the main objective of the fight was to simply avoid the other person as much as possible, and to see who could look like the biggest fairy. Not to mention that I saw at least four attempts at soccer-style kicks to the head, none of which connected, and usually resulted in the kicker falling on his ass. After witnessing such a display, I am going to find it even more difficult to take any of these ass-clowns seriously. Really the only thing they have going for them is that they all travel in packs. This is the only time they yell random things at passer-by's. And when they're alone...well, they're as quiet as a church.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Summer Readin' V
Fight Club - Chuck Palahniuk
When I started reading this book I wasn't sure if I was going to enjoy it at all. To be honest after the first forty pages or so I was starting to think that the movie was far better than the book. I know, it's usually a sin to even utter such words, but its what I thought. After finishing it however, I realized its not that the movie was better, the book is just very different in subtle ways. The book is a far more brutal, and unpleasant story. The narrator seems to go through much more agony and despair than Edward Norton's character in the film. When comparing the two, the movie almost seems like a toned-down version of the book. Not as brutally violent or shocking. The narrator has a fucking hole in his cheek for 75% of the novel. I doubt the production company behind the film would have enjoyed putting that on film.
Furthermore the ending in the book is very different, and in my opinion far superior. The writing is very minimalist, with little back story or set up. The reader is simply thrust into Tyler Durden's world, and is sucked in by his madness.
Anyways I recommend it...and if you do read it, try and forget everything about the film beforehand. I'm sure it will make for a much more hypnotic read.
Currently reading: In Cold Blood by Truman Capote.
When I started reading this book I wasn't sure if I was going to enjoy it at all. To be honest after the first forty pages or so I was starting to think that the movie was far better than the book. I know, it's usually a sin to even utter such words, but its what I thought. After finishing it however, I realized its not that the movie was better, the book is just very different in subtle ways. The book is a far more brutal, and unpleasant story. The narrator seems to go through much more agony and despair than Edward Norton's character in the film. When comparing the two, the movie almost seems like a toned-down version of the book. Not as brutally violent or shocking. The narrator has a fucking hole in his cheek for 75% of the novel. I doubt the production company behind the film would have enjoyed putting that on film.
Furthermore the ending in the book is very different, and in my opinion far superior. The writing is very minimalist, with little back story or set up. The reader is simply thrust into Tyler Durden's world, and is sucked in by his madness.
Anyways I recommend it...and if you do read it, try and forget everything about the film beforehand. I'm sure it will make for a much more hypnotic read.
Currently reading: In Cold Blood by Truman Capote.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Fuckin' Atodaso
The countdown is on:
I am fucking pumped. I just hope its better than the first movie...
Lahey is going down.
I am fucking pumped. I just hope its better than the first movie...
Lahey is going down.
Well, I Guess We're Just Going to Have to Kill These People.
I guess this is what you get when you take pounds of excrement, put it in a bottle, let it ferment for a few weeks, then spew it onto a record and call it a song.
Seriously, this has to be the worst piece of music I have ever heard in my life. Let's forget all the Paris Hiltons, the Hilary Duffs, and the Panic at the Discos out there, these guys take the fucking cake by a mile. Move over Hedley, there's some new Sheriffs in town.
Behold!
I never thought music could actually make me want to vomit.
Seriously, this has to be the worst piece of music I have ever heard in my life. Let's forget all the Paris Hiltons, the Hilary Duffs, and the Panic at the Discos out there, these guys take the fucking cake by a mile. Move over Hedley, there's some new Sheriffs in town.
Behold!
I never thought music could actually make me want to vomit.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Summer Readin' IV
Hells Angels - Hunter S. Thompson
I've always been a massive fan of Thompson, ever since I read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas for the first time. I've since read it maybe twenty times. I have read a few of his other books, but I've never read anything by him that was actually considered 'journalism', other than a few pieces he wrote for ESPN.com before his death. This book finally gave me the insight of what a great journalist he was, and his ability to cover a story or topic so well. I absolutely love his style, as he becomes a part of the story that he is covering.
The story at hand is him chronicling the year he spent roaming around with the notorious biker gang the Hells Angels, in and around California during the mid-1960s. He covers them from when they were a little-known gang of outlaws, to achieving over-night fame and suddenly becoming regularly mentioned by the media. Thompson goes to their parties, witnesses gang fights, assaults, orgies, their clashes with the hippie movement, Ken Kesey, and gets a sense of the kind of lives that these men, along with their 'mamas' lead. True 'gonzo' journalism.
Hunter's description of simply riding a motorcycle at night is enough to keep me coming back for more.
(from page 322):
'There was no helmet on those nights, no speed limit, and no cooling it down on the curves. The momentary freedom of the park was like the one unlucky drink that shoves a wavering alcoholic off the wagon. Into first gear, forgetting the cars and letting the beast wind out...thirty-five, forty-five...then into second and wailing through the light at Lincoln Way, not worried about green or red signals, but only some other werewolf loony who might be pulling out, too slowly, to start his own run. Then into third, the boomer gear, pushing seventy-five and the beginning of a windscream in the ears, a pressure on the eyeballs like diving into water off a high board. Bent forward, far back on the seat, and a rigid grip on the handlebars as the bike starts jumping and wavering in the wind. Into fourth, and now there's no sound except the wind. Screw it all the way over, reach through the handlebars to raise the headlight beam, the needle leans down on a hundred, and wind-burned eyeballs strain to see down the center line, trying to provide a margin for the reflexes.
That's when the strange music starts, when you stretch your luck so far that fear becomes exhilaration and vibrates along your arms. You can barely see at a hundred; the tears blow back so fast that they vaporize before they get to your ears. The only sounds are wind and a dull roar floating back from the mufflers. You watch the white line and try to lean with it....howling through a turn to the right, the to the left and down the long hill to Pacifica...letting off now, watching for cops, but only until the next dark stretch and another few seconds on the edge...The Edge...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. The others - the living - are those who pushed their control as far as they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later.
But the edge is still Out there. Or maybe it's In. The association of motorcycles with LSD is no accident of publicity. They are both a means to an end, to the place of definitions.'
Currently reading: Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
I've always been a massive fan of Thompson, ever since I read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas for the first time. I've since read it maybe twenty times. I have read a few of his other books, but I've never read anything by him that was actually considered 'journalism', other than a few pieces he wrote for ESPN.com before his death. This book finally gave me the insight of what a great journalist he was, and his ability to cover a story or topic so well. I absolutely love his style, as he becomes a part of the story that he is covering.
The story at hand is him chronicling the year he spent roaming around with the notorious biker gang the Hells Angels, in and around California during the mid-1960s. He covers them from when they were a little-known gang of outlaws, to achieving over-night fame and suddenly becoming regularly mentioned by the media. Thompson goes to their parties, witnesses gang fights, assaults, orgies, their clashes with the hippie movement, Ken Kesey, and gets a sense of the kind of lives that these men, along with their 'mamas' lead. True 'gonzo' journalism.
Hunter's description of simply riding a motorcycle at night is enough to keep me coming back for more.
(from page 322):
'There was no helmet on those nights, no speed limit, and no cooling it down on the curves. The momentary freedom of the park was like the one unlucky drink that shoves a wavering alcoholic off the wagon. Into first gear, forgetting the cars and letting the beast wind out...thirty-five, forty-five...then into second and wailing through the light at Lincoln Way, not worried about green or red signals, but only some other werewolf loony who might be pulling out, too slowly, to start his own run. Then into third, the boomer gear, pushing seventy-five and the beginning of a windscream in the ears, a pressure on the eyeballs like diving into water off a high board. Bent forward, far back on the seat, and a rigid grip on the handlebars as the bike starts jumping and wavering in the wind. Into fourth, and now there's no sound except the wind. Screw it all the way over, reach through the handlebars to raise the headlight beam, the needle leans down on a hundred, and wind-burned eyeballs strain to see down the center line, trying to provide a margin for the reflexes.
That's when the strange music starts, when you stretch your luck so far that fear becomes exhilaration and vibrates along your arms. You can barely see at a hundred; the tears blow back so fast that they vaporize before they get to your ears. The only sounds are wind and a dull roar floating back from the mufflers. You watch the white line and try to lean with it....howling through a turn to the right, the to the left and down the long hill to Pacifica...letting off now, watching for cops, but only until the next dark stretch and another few seconds on the edge...The Edge...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. The others - the living - are those who pushed their control as far as they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later.
But the edge is still Out there. Or maybe it's In. The association of motorcycles with LSD is no accident of publicity. They are both a means to an end, to the place of definitions.'
Currently reading: Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Damn you Winnipeg.
Apparently some unscrupulous bastard within the Winnipeg Blue Bombers organization was caught red-handed spying at Ivor Wynne Stadium during a Hamilton Ti-Cats practice earlier this week. I didn't know Bill Belichick had joined a CFL organization.
http://tsn.ca/cfl/story/?id=284776
I hope the Ti-Cats tear the Blue Bombers a new one. However, hoping the Ti-Cats tear any one a new anything is like hoping the Toronto Raptors will win an NBA title.
http://tsn.ca/cfl/story/?id=284776
I hope the Ti-Cats tear the Blue Bombers a new one. However, hoping the Ti-Cats tear any one a new anything is like hoping the Toronto Raptors will win an NBA title.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Please, Oh Please Be Good.
I saw a trailer for this a few months ago, and it didn't really tell me much about the film, other than aliens had arrived on Earth. But now with this new trailer it gives us the impression that we, humanity, are the bad guys and seemingly won't let the aliens leave. An original concept (at least to my knowledge), and I really hope it works well.
If not, well I guess we're going to have to continue having our cinemas flooded with novel-to-film adaptations, sequels, and videogame-to-film adaptations, because it seems the only original movies that come out nowadays are shitty chick flicks. So for the love of God, a decent, original sci-fi movie please. Is that too much to ask?
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Summer Readin' III
On the Road - Jack Kerouac
On the Road chronicles Jack Kerouac's travels during the late 1940's across the United States, in search of his idea of the American Dream. Being free to experience life on the road, having encounters with new people, sex, drugs, drink, jazz, and enjoying the innocent optimism that was beaming across America post-WWII.
The novel is a mix of reality and fiction, with Kerouac using characters' names for real life people. Kerouac calls himself Sal Paradise, and is mostly joined by the crazy Dean Moriarty on his travels. Deans real life name is Neal Cassidy. Being interested in the whole 'beat' generation, this was a very engaging read as Kerouac encounters the likes of Allen Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs, Ian MacArthur, and a slew of other beats.
The novel is very inspiring, showing us that if we're really so inclined, we actually can live our lives however we see fit. How I wish we still lived in times where it was possible to just walk out onto the road, stick your thumb out and catch a ride to another place, far away from everything you know.
Don't miss this one.
Currently reading: Hells Angels - Hunter S. Thompson
On the Road chronicles Jack Kerouac's travels during the late 1940's across the United States, in search of his idea of the American Dream. Being free to experience life on the road, having encounters with new people, sex, drugs, drink, jazz, and enjoying the innocent optimism that was beaming across America post-WWII.
The novel is a mix of reality and fiction, with Kerouac using characters' names for real life people. Kerouac calls himself Sal Paradise, and is mostly joined by the crazy Dean Moriarty on his travels. Deans real life name is Neal Cassidy. Being interested in the whole 'beat' generation, this was a very engaging read as Kerouac encounters the likes of Allen Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs, Ian MacArthur, and a slew of other beats.
The novel is very inspiring, showing us that if we're really so inclined, we actually can live our lives however we see fit. How I wish we still lived in times where it was possible to just walk out onto the road, stick your thumb out and catch a ride to another place, far away from everything you know.
Don't miss this one.
Currently reading: Hells Angels - Hunter S. Thompson
Monday, July 13, 2009
French Bureaucracy, Continued.
Well folks, I suppose there are times in everyone's lives where you encounter stupidity beyond your own comprehension. This is one of those times.
A few days I ago I finally heard back from the City Hall in Lille about my French identity card. Expecting them to say that I could roll on down there to pick it up after a month of waiting, I was quite excited when I picked up the phone. Within about five seconds that excitement turned into a level of frustration that I didn't think was possible. I was informed that I cannot receive my identity card at this moment. The reason? According to the idiot who processed my application, there is no 'agreement' between France and Canada about granting dual-citizenship. I had the man on the phone explain this to me twice, so I could allow my brain to process this insanity, and make sure I wasn't just imagining things. But I heard him right the first time. Now this is a strange situation, considering my father has Canadian-French dual-citizenship, as does my sister. I informed the man of this, and he told me 'well, I don't know what to tell you'. I swiftly hung up on him.
After cooling off, I decided to go to the City Hall and deal with this in person. When I arrived and got to speak to a receptionist, they told me the same thing, showing me my application, and the written reason of why I can't get this card that allows me to work a legitimate job here. This is where I really got to know how much the French simply overlook important details. The woman told me 'well, just because you were born on French soil, doesn't automatically give you French citizenship, neither of your parents are French'. My head almost exploded. But I kept calm, showing her my birth certificate which clearly states my father was born here in France, in a town called Quimper. This shut her up, and stumped her for a moment. She left, and brought in the man who phoned me that morning. I guess he didn't realize I hung up on him, because he was rather polite. He told me 'well, WE DON"T KNOW if there is an agreement between France and Canada that grants dual-citizenship'. You don't know? Isn't it your job to know? And if you don't know, maybe fucking look into it? I mean, something that would take a person five minutes to look into, on the internet, in a book, something that if they had looked into, would make my month-long wait actually worth while, wasn't within their capacity? The man simply stared at me and started apologizing, stating that this office in particular doesn't actually process the application, and that they get sent to the police bureau in Paris. Fantastic. I pointed out the fact that the lady I had spoken to earlier wasn't even aware that I was fully French through the fact that not only was I born here, but my father was as well. This very important yet overlooked fact is a perfect example of how the French work. He told me that she just made a mistake. Well it's a pretty big fucking mistake to make if you ask me. The man simply told me there was nothing he could do, and that I would have to present my case to a Court in the Police Station, show THEM that there is an agreement between France and Canada, because apparently they can't be bothered to check themselves, and beg for my citizenship. I calmly took my papers and walked out of the office, for fear that I might reach across the table and start strangling this man. Imprisonment didn't sound like the right solution.
Basically every one I have spoken to about this matter, including the City Hall in Eaubonne where I was born, has told me that this is completely bogus and that someone, somewhere, fucked up big time. No kidding. I guess my only choice is going in front of this tribunal of French pricks, and nicely explaining to them how stupid their government workers are.
A few days I ago I finally heard back from the City Hall in Lille about my French identity card. Expecting them to say that I could roll on down there to pick it up after a month of waiting, I was quite excited when I picked up the phone. Within about five seconds that excitement turned into a level of frustration that I didn't think was possible. I was informed that I cannot receive my identity card at this moment. The reason? According to the idiot who processed my application, there is no 'agreement' between France and Canada about granting dual-citizenship. I had the man on the phone explain this to me twice, so I could allow my brain to process this insanity, and make sure I wasn't just imagining things. But I heard him right the first time. Now this is a strange situation, considering my father has Canadian-French dual-citizenship, as does my sister. I informed the man of this, and he told me 'well, I don't know what to tell you'. I swiftly hung up on him.
After cooling off, I decided to go to the City Hall and deal with this in person. When I arrived and got to speak to a receptionist, they told me the same thing, showing me my application, and the written reason of why I can't get this card that allows me to work a legitimate job here. This is where I really got to know how much the French simply overlook important details. The woman told me 'well, just because you were born on French soil, doesn't automatically give you French citizenship, neither of your parents are French'. My head almost exploded. But I kept calm, showing her my birth certificate which clearly states my father was born here in France, in a town called Quimper. This shut her up, and stumped her for a moment. She left, and brought in the man who phoned me that morning. I guess he didn't realize I hung up on him, because he was rather polite. He told me 'well, WE DON"T KNOW if there is an agreement between France and Canada that grants dual-citizenship'. You don't know? Isn't it your job to know? And if you don't know, maybe fucking look into it? I mean, something that would take a person five minutes to look into, on the internet, in a book, something that if they had looked into, would make my month-long wait actually worth while, wasn't within their capacity? The man simply stared at me and started apologizing, stating that this office in particular doesn't actually process the application, and that they get sent to the police bureau in Paris. Fantastic. I pointed out the fact that the lady I had spoken to earlier wasn't even aware that I was fully French through the fact that not only was I born here, but my father was as well. This very important yet overlooked fact is a perfect example of how the French work. He told me that she just made a mistake. Well it's a pretty big fucking mistake to make if you ask me. The man simply told me there was nothing he could do, and that I would have to present my case to a Court in the Police Station, show THEM that there is an agreement between France and Canada, because apparently they can't be bothered to check themselves, and beg for my citizenship. I calmly took my papers and walked out of the office, for fear that I might reach across the table and start strangling this man. Imprisonment didn't sound like the right solution.
Basically every one I have spoken to about this matter, including the City Hall in Eaubonne where I was born, has told me that this is completely bogus and that someone, somewhere, fucked up big time. No kidding. I guess my only choice is going in front of this tribunal of French pricks, and nicely explaining to them how stupid their government workers are.
Friday, July 10, 2009
How is that legal?
Apparently a Ghanian woman has opted to marry her dog, as she is fed up with men.
"I've been in relationships with so many men here in Togo, and they are all the same - skirt-chasers and cheaters. My dog is kind, and loyal to me and he treats me with so much respect."
Well, I guess the men she's been with have truly been assholes. But I can't help but point out the irony of this situation:
She has picked a companion where her sole purpose is to feed it, make sure its happy, and clean up its shit. Sounds like she's married an asshole. Sure it can't talk, but when it does open its mouth, its louder and more annoying than anything a man could say.
http://www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_3390683.html?menu=
"I've been in relationships with so many men here in Togo, and they are all the same - skirt-chasers and cheaters. My dog is kind, and loyal to me and he treats me with so much respect."
Well, I guess the men she's been with have truly been assholes. But I can't help but point out the irony of this situation:
She has picked a companion where her sole purpose is to feed it, make sure its happy, and clean up its shit. Sounds like she's married an asshole. Sure it can't talk, but when it does open its mouth, its louder and more annoying than anything a man could say.
http://www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_3390683.html?menu=
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Back on the Wagon
Alright so any one who has been around me when discussing the Leafs know my stance about them. I've been on the fence for the past four seasons, voicing my hate of their management, and the team in general. While I did in fact hate the team, deep down I knew I was a Leafs fan. It almost disgusts me to write such a thing, but its true. The minute John Ferguson Jr. was fired I got excited, hoping to God this was a turning point in the organization. In comes Brian Burke, the new GM, and holy crap that man has made be a 'be-leafer' once again. I'm not saying they're going to win a championship any time soon, but it seems they're well on their way to being a respectable team once again. Call me a traitor, a jumper, unscrupulous, whatever you want. The fact is that I will no longer be embarrassed to say I like the Maple Leafs.
I have come to this conclusion for a variety of reasons:
1. Drafting
For the past couple of seasons the Leafs have actually held on to their first round picks, not trading them away for some aging dinosaur in hopes that they will be propelled to the Stanley Cup Final for a season. Thank you JFJ for that. Already Luke Schenn is showing promise, and I can only hope it will be the same for Nazem Kadri, their pick this season.
2. Defence
This off-season Brian Burke has been signing free agent D-men like crazy. Beauchemin, Exelby, Komisarek. Not to mention that Kubina was traded, dumping his insane five-million dollar salary-cap hit. That makes 10 D-men on the roster at the moment, have fun in the minors Jeff Finger. Also, goodbye Kaberle? Only time will tell.
3. The Monster
Brian Burke signed Jonas 'the monster' Gustavsson this morning, who is considered to be the best goalie playing outside the NHL right now. He played 42 games in the Swedish Elite League last season, posting a remarkable .932 save percentage, and 1.96 goals against average. I doubt he'll start (at least at first) in front of Vesa Toskala, but at least it will light a fire under Toskala's ass knowing there's a new hot-shot goalie in town that's aching to get ice time. Who knows, maybe Toronto will ditch Toskala and his 4 million dollar salary. Pierre Mcguire is going to bust a nut when he gets asked to call Leafs games on TSN.
4. Size
Its no secret that Brian Burke loves tough, massive teams. Just look at the roster of the Anaheim Ducks. On top of huge defenceman, Burke also signed Colton Orr, a known scrapper and tough-guy around the league. The man had seventeen fighting majors last season. The Leafs might not score a ton this year, but they might just beat the other team into such a pulp that it won't matter.
Never thought I'd utter these words again:
Go Leafs Go.
I have come to this conclusion for a variety of reasons:
1. Drafting
For the past couple of seasons the Leafs have actually held on to their first round picks, not trading them away for some aging dinosaur in hopes that they will be propelled to the Stanley Cup Final for a season. Thank you JFJ for that. Already Luke Schenn is showing promise, and I can only hope it will be the same for Nazem Kadri, their pick this season.
2. Defence
This off-season Brian Burke has been signing free agent D-men like crazy. Beauchemin, Exelby, Komisarek. Not to mention that Kubina was traded, dumping his insane five-million dollar salary-cap hit. That makes 10 D-men on the roster at the moment, have fun in the minors Jeff Finger. Also, goodbye Kaberle? Only time will tell.
3. The Monster
Brian Burke signed Jonas 'the monster' Gustavsson this morning, who is considered to be the best goalie playing outside the NHL right now. He played 42 games in the Swedish Elite League last season, posting a remarkable .932 save percentage, and 1.96 goals against average. I doubt he'll start (at least at first) in front of Vesa Toskala, but at least it will light a fire under Toskala's ass knowing there's a new hot-shot goalie in town that's aching to get ice time. Who knows, maybe Toronto will ditch Toskala and his 4 million dollar salary. Pierre Mcguire is going to bust a nut when he gets asked to call Leafs games on TSN.
4. Size
Its no secret that Brian Burke loves tough, massive teams. Just look at the roster of the Anaheim Ducks. On top of huge defenceman, Burke also signed Colton Orr, a known scrapper and tough-guy around the league. The man had seventeen fighting majors last season. The Leafs might not score a ton this year, but they might just beat the other team into such a pulp that it won't matter.
Never thought I'd utter these words again:
Go Leafs Go.
Alaskan Osyssey
Apparently Sarah Palin is resigning. Good fucking riddance. Maybe now we don't have to hear about her any more.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
Radiohead Madness
Karma Police has to be one of my favorite music videos of all time. Gives me chills.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Happy Canada Day!
Happy Canada Day everyone. Its my first Canada Day away from home. All I really want today is to be at the side of a lake in northern Ontario, sipping on some cool Canadian beer, hitting the barbeque, hard. Sadly none of this is possible, as I can't find any Canadian beer here, there are no lakes near me, and I certainly don't own a Q. Fuck.
So I guess the next best thing is to watch some seriously Canadian content on youtube. Enjoy!
The Tragically Hip - The Darkest One:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEJiZVj9yws (fucking youtube won't let me embed it here). The Hip, Don Cherry, and the Trailer Park Boys. Can't really get any more Canadian than that.
Remember these?
Personally my favorite is the one where the American gold-miner gets kicked the fuck out of the country by a Mountie. Hell yeah.
So I guess the next best thing is to watch some seriously Canadian content on youtube. Enjoy!
The Tragically Hip - The Darkest One:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEJiZVj9yws (fucking youtube won't let me embed it here). The Hip, Don Cherry, and the Trailer Park Boys. Can't really get any more Canadian than that.
Remember these?
Personally my favorite is the one where the American gold-miner gets kicked the fuck out of the country by a Mountie. Hell yeah.
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