Seen slinking out of town last night

Mere days or so tardy of American Thanksgiving, all sortsa news types last night began averring that this country's F35 Lightning Joint Strike Fighter procurement process was done like dinner. The carved remains were already being forked over unto destruction or home made turkey soup, whichever comes first.

The Harpoon Government's (©®, and especially ™. . .) designated spokesthingy denied it. Well, he would, wouldn't he? But since this government has repeatedly been revealed as rather more than, ummm, strenuously economical with the truth on this line item and sundry others, some long-time parliamentary reporters hooted (Tweeted, actually. I digress.) at him with something bordering on open derision, ummm, all due respect. . .

Let the spin begin. I'm anticipatin' that it'll be fittingly supersonic.

Meanwhile, last night, as dusk descended, a large, droopy-feathered shadow could be heard either gobbling or wailing something very much like, "But I don't understand! I'm Fifth Generation!" as it slunk (stealthily...) down the road out of town.

And somewhere in the deeper shadows off to the side of the turkey track, another large droopy feathered shadow - this one with an aqualine nose - could be heard quietly sniffling something very much like, "My heart's a little banged up too. But don't worry, li'l fella! I'm as loyal to you as to my neighbour's dog. . ."

The world needs Lo-Rez Ipsum

A few weeks back, whilst I was conducting an impromptu if spirited inventory of the trashcan behind Fourth Dwarf's place, as us coyotes are wont to do of a warm summer evening, he lifted the lid and invited me to get the hell out so he could dispose of his garbage. Then he invited me inside to watch a little cable, so long as I stayed on the newspaper on the floor, and away from his couch.

We lit the screen just as Here Comes Honey Boo Boo sashayed onto, ummm, The Learning Channel. It was like witnessing the wreck of a train full of obese, neckless passengers in real time -- no slo-mo about it, bubba! I was horrified in moments, but the Short Guy is made of sterner stuff.

"We're watching it!" he ordered. "It'll be educational!"

It was. I learned that the evil trolls who produce Honey Boo Boo have, against the odds, managed to tamp the ever-lowering cultural bar into a fresh grave somewhere beneath sub-sub-basement level. I hadda take a midnight swim in the Ottawa River to clear the air after. And I ain't impugning the reputation of the Dwarf's trash, either.

It was a harbinger of things to come. A couple of days ago, certain of the Irregulars noticed a net-based lorem ipsum generator modelled after Fifty Shades of Grey. As soft-porn cultural phenomenons go, Fifty Shades is a really, really badly written one. And selling like cheap chocolate bunnies right after Lent.

Lorem ipsum, for the uninitiated, is a body of random-pseudo Latin text that graphic designers put where text should be, when the real words aren't written yet. It's a way to mock up what the finished page looks like. So a Fifty Shades-based lorem ipsum generator is probably some kind of smart marketing move in certain circles. Some of us might even applaud, if we'd thought of it.

In fact, some ESIs even wondered whether we could use it to automatically write one-click posts for this blog, so we'd never ever have to look at, or think about, the damn thing ever again. When cooler heads prevailed, we decided that so long as we're blighting the webscape, we'll stay an original blight.

But what to do about all the cultural bar-lowering offenses that aren't ours? Honey Boo Boo and Fifty Shades prove they're epidemic! And they burn our eyes! They burn! How the hell do we get rid of 'em?

Then the genius idea: An ESI Lo-rez Ipsum browser plugin, to blur out everything that offends. We'll get rich! If we ever figure out a business model...

A Muse Yourselves

I have been known to get grumpy with the ESIs over their whining about their missing Muse. I have been know to tell them to, "Get over it!".


Good news darling ESIs! You can now trundle on over to Images on Bank Street where it seems that you can pick out a new muse...

OC Transpo: Enough with the HO HO HO

Dear OC Transpo,

I am writing today to ask your drivers to go back to using the "Hors Service" display when they are driving an out-of-service bus.

When it is -19 and I have been waiting 15 minutes for a 14 Carlington and I finally see a bus coming, but it does not say "14 Carlington" on the front but instead says "HO HO HO - Merry Christmas", I am not filled with the gladness of the season. Instead I am filled with an emotion that leads me to say "Merry f-ing Christmas, to you too, OC Transpo."

Sincerely,
Fourth Dwarf

p.s. As an alternative to "Hors Service", I am also fine with "Ottawa Senators" because I don't much care for them anyway.

Cheerup: NaBloPoMo and NaNoWriMo are almost over

November is the dreariest month. For metabloggers. Because it is both the month that many bloggers pledge to post every day and the month that many commit to writing a 50,000 word novel.

The sky darkens earlier every night and the blogs we follow are filled with whining about word counts and how terrible those words are or we get posts where the author confesses to having nothing to say but then types in several screens worth of Facebook status updates.

But with all this dreariness, I am still optimistic that along with the solstice and lengthening days, December and the holiday season will will bring us the family dysfunction and morality rants that will make reading blogs fun again.

Life in Wasp-boro

Breaking news from Kitchissippi Times...

How many of us are feeling about this winter in Ottawa

5 reasons why Coyote isn't blogging today...

1) Frozen ears.

2) Frozen paws.

3) Frozen nose.

4) Frozen tail.

5) I'm pretty sure there was a fifth thing - but it's either too numb to count anymore, or else it froze off completely...

Things that should be paralyzing Ottawa in 2009

1. The City of Ottawa master-computer goes to war with the NCC master-computer. Snowplows battle it out with ice groomers while humans cower in their homes.
2. Everyone is grounded because all jetpacks made since 2005 are recalled to replace exploding components created by Moscow hackers who want to claim the 2nd-coldest capital honour for their city.
3. A coolant leak shuts down the superconducting coil in the monorail system.
4. City is evacuated because northwest winds are bringing a radioactive fallout cloud from a nuclear meltdown at Deep River.
5. A new psycho-pharmaceutical has made everyone telepathic so there is no need to go anywhere.

Not so Zen Thoughts

I have not quite perfected clearing my mind of all thoughts during yoga.

For example, tonight, while I was listening to my yoga teacher's soothing instructions, I was also discreetly trying to get a glimpse of the enticing tattoo on her rump.

As I continued posing, I remembered that I should book a series of massages with her. She is also my massage therapist.

At that thought, and as I was trying to stay balanced in a I Have Fire Shooting Out of My Middle Finger She Woman Man Hater Warrior pose, I let out a whiny Uji breath as I realized, with envy in my heart, that there are certain things that have happened to my beloved fellow bloggers that just never happen to me.

I have never,

1. Gotten to second base with my massage therapist,
2. Won anything of any significant value,
3. Scored free tickets to see someone I love perform, or
4. Made love to someone on the desk of a Member of Parliament.
5. There is no fifth thing, but I wish there was.
   

.

Fifths

As Aggie often reminds us, there is no fifth thing.

I think that it is charming that she sees, hears, and speaks no fifth.

But, for those who find this idiosyncrasy confusing, here are a few fifths for you to ponder:

• a fifth wheel

• a fifth of therapy
  

• a fifth of Beethoven

• a fifth of Ayabar

• a fifth reason to stop smoking

• a fifth less
  

• a fifth (see #5)

Pre-Posthumous Urban T**t (*) Zeitgeist Award

The observant among you will have noticed that I did not post Friday. I can explain: the dog ate my homework. Wait! I am the... oh, crap...

Actually, my reasons have to do with yesterday's state of high fuzzy-headedness. Thursday evening, whilst I was partaking of a postprandial aperitif, (often a blissful moment) the trouble began. Somewhere not unadjacent to the 'ol coyote den, a car with its antitheft alarum's sensors cranked to the max began to honk wildly at the transit of every squirrel - nay, every falling leaf. You know how many leafs are fallin' right now. It sounded like a freight train. Or a Buick.

I assumed some ass had parked and gone off to carouse on Elgin Street, and that all would be well in a few excruciating hours.

Wrong. All night, that horn fired off every five minutes. I then assumed that perhaps said ass had over-imbibed and taxied home. Still an ass, yet at least not endangering the public. But a quick stroll at eight-AM-ish Friday morning pinpointed the offending automobile - indeed a big honkin' new Buick - in a nearby residential driveway.

I contemplated this hyperactive excretion with an austere red eye. Well, two. As I did, a guy with an air of Steve Dallas about him stepped blithely from the porch with his Eddie Bean Insulated Travel Mug, Giant Squid Edition®, blipped the remote, climbed in, started up, and drove off.

I am grateful to Woodsy and Pandora for their thoughtful attempts to caffeinate my sleepless condition at a popular bean juice joint, later that day. They were well-intentioned and well-received.

Yet, maybe it's Seasonal Affective Disorder kicking in, but my ill humour remains. Steve: You are the lucky winner of coyote's Pre-Posthumous Urban T**t Zeitgeist (PPUTZ) Award. This means that I am bending my not-inconsiderable semimythical, totemic telekinetic powers to focus the universe's karma upon you. Kinda like a big psychic magnifying glass aiming the sun at your brain. Soon, your head will explode. All over your brand-new Buick's upholstery, I hope. Fair is fair.

* Toot. Twat. Take your pick...

Meta-Meta Contest

Aggie and Woodsy have traded days for posting. The reason why we did the switch will be apparent later today, so stay tuned.

A few months before I was invited to join the ESI, a meta-contest was held on this blog. I entered the contest and won a prize. When my prize never materialized, I started whining annoyingly to Fourth Dwarf that I wanted my prize.

"Oh, don't you worry, my dear, you'll get your prize alright," he coughed out ominously.

I got my prize. It is hidden within this blog.

I would like to suggest a meta-meta-contest. Comment as to what it was that I wanted for my prize, then find the prize on this blog, and I will take you out for a coffee and a ginger cookie at Bridgehead - my treat!