Iceberglandia

I just wanted to say thank you to everybody who remembered, took the time to write, call or drop by for dinner, and considered me important enough in their lives to want to express their best wishes.
It’s just hard to track down every single source of congratulation (not that I wouldn’t do it – after all, it’s the least I could do), I just wanted to condense all the information here.
Thank you to everybody that expressed their best wishes through my Facebook wall, through MSN Messenger, through text messages on my cell phone, email, the telephone and in person.
All of your “happy birthdays” made my celebration that much better, and from the bottom of my heart, I feel thankful I have such a great group of people surrounding me. You guys kick ass!

As for the actual birthday, it wasn’t the “all-out” alcohol binge I had envisioned since I discovered my birthday would fall on a saturday. It wasn’t even the BBQ I had settled for, thanks to the weather forecasts that up until saturday morning said it’d be raining (which never happened). It was a more family-oriented thing, with my sisters and their husbands dropping by for the greatest meal in the world.
My gf made like, 12 of my favorite dishes, my sister and her husband brought even more food, and even today, the friday after my birthday, I still have left-overs. Ha!
I had purchased beer, rum, tequila and Jack Daniels (and my other sister and bro-in-law arrived with a case of beer), and had high hopes of it being sunday morning and still going at it, but since I had gotten up early (and had knocked back quite a few beers and almost the entire contents of my Bacardi Limon), by the time everybody left I told the gf I was going to “lie down for 10 minutes” and woke up the next day. At least the “sunday morning drinking” part still happened…
So, in other words, it was even better than I thought. Thank you all!

The Iceberg.

While doing my daily round at fark.com, I stumbled upon the following headline:

Goodbye, productivity: MTV Music site posts every music video ever made

Which made me smile. Not get all excited and shit, because well, it’s not like there are other forms of watching music videos, but hey, at least MTV was going old-school and actually playing videos again. I soon discovered that the stupid service is available only in the USA.
And I mean, who cares, really? Fuck’em. But I started thinking about a couple of things that, while they may make perfect sense from a legal standpoint, are still absurd.

First of all, why the fuck would you take the time to create an internet service (remember – the internet can be accessed from all over the world), and then limit access to it to a string of IP addresses?
The first time that happened to me, I was kind of addicted to Pandora.com, a service through which I (as well as many people, obviously) had the opportunity to find new music. The site was perfect, a gift from the gods. You’d type in a band you like, say for instance White Zombie, and based on whatever algorythm, the site would create a playlist filled with bands that the site decided that were similar to White Zombie.
Then, one day a couple of years ago, I tried accessing and was slammed in the face by this:

And it’s been like that ever since (the image you just saw was captured just last night, actually!).

My question number two would be… Is copyright really based upon country? In what regards? This is what happened when I tried to access the MTV service:

Yes, Anthrax, because they rule. But then again, Anthrax is an american band, signed to an american company. What would happen if I tried searching for videos from non-american bands, signed to non-american companies? Like, say, a band from Canada?

Shit. No Dice. How about a band from Germany?

Color me damned! How about a sub-par “rock” collective from Mexico?

…I could go on. So the US, apparently, controls all the copyrights in the world.
On a side note, I must explain that upon searching for videos I discovered that the claim to have “access to every video ever made” is a big fat lie. For example, I was reduced to searching for “Maná”, a band I most absolutely loathe, because I couldn’t find videos from mexican bands I DO like, such as Molotov.

So, I’ll admit to being ignorant on the subject, but just how the fuck can an american company claim that it would be a violation of copyright law if a guy in Canada wants to watch a video from a band from Germany, Mexico, or fucking Myanmar?

My final question would be: Um, if copyright laws are so stern that a media giant like MTV can be scared of showing videos on the internet, wouldn’t you think that sites like YouTube would have long been brought down? Or are Pandora and MTV full of shit, and the only thing they want is to control their bandwidth?
Because, well, I still get MTV and MTV2, and VH1 for that matter, on my TV. In Canada. When I tune in, I don’t see a stupid red square saying that copyrights restrict them from playing their shitty programming outside the US.

The mind boggles. At least we still have YouTube. For now.

The Iceberg.

That’s how old I am, today. Shit! Of course, I feel only 2/3 of that. And some would say I act only 1/3 of that.

The Iceberg

The TV was on, on one of the latin channels. The gf was watching some mexican soap opera, as usual. I was getting ready for work, minding my own business, when I caught a glimpse of one of the actresses on the tube, and starting commenting with the gf about the many ways I’d have my way with said actress.

Don’t worry, she lets me get away with such juvenile behaviour. Hey, she sometimes even encourages it. She’s great!

So here I am, being a perv, when the gf mentioned something to the effect of the actress being underage, which made me feel a few pangs of guilt.
Now, yes, the little actress does in fact appear young, but logic was on my side. Mexican TV producers wouldn’t dare to put a minor in a role where she kisses, gets fondled by, and has romantic hopes of eloping with, another actor, namely an “older” adult, would they?

Now, all this backstory serves the purpose of introducing what I wanted to mention, the OMFG! moment I had.
See, there was a dispute between the gf and myself, regarding the age of an actress that was on the TV. Things were tense, but fortunately, before any violence escalated, I thought of a possible solution to our conflict. Something that would help to establish peace for the ages. I logged on to Wikipedia.

Turns out, I was right. (Was there any doubt? Ha!). Turns out, Eiza Gonzalez was born January 30, 1990, which puts her at the very legal age of 18.

WHAT?

WHAT???!!!

People who were born in 1990 are legal now? Holy shit, I remember 1990 like it was yesterday! No, it WAS yesterday!!
Time flies… I remember I was rocking out to this in 1990:

And those people born that year are 18 now? Man, that was half my life ago!

Shit.

The Iceberg.

Well, I promised myself over this past weekend that I wouldn’t buy liquor. What I didn’t promise myself, however, was that I wouldn’t buy beer. So, off I went to the beer store. Literally, The Beer Store. That’s what it’s called.

To me, beer is not an alcoholic beverage, in that it becomes impossible for me to acquire anything but a light buzz due to drinking it. Not because I have a record-level tolerance to alcohol, but because I can never drink enough beer to get drunk. It has more to do with feeling bloated after a few beers than with whatever alcohol tolerance I do have.
I treat beer like europeans treat wine. I’ll have one (or two) with lunch. I’ll down a couple after work, sometimes. Since I usually buy other alcohol sources on the weekend, I hardly ever drink beer in considerable amounts. But, I guess, this weekend was different.
Oh, and before I forget to mention it, I’m not a beer snob. There’s only a handful of beers I dare not touch. I hate stouts, I’m not a huge fan of ales, and I’ll take a lager or a pilsener over anything else. But despite not being a beer snob, I do have to say there are beers that even *I* wouldn’t consider buying. Namely, american mass-produced beers. Budweiser, Miller, etc. The only ones I’m able to tolerate are Coors (and not the “silver bullet” – the golden one), and Miller Genuine Draft.

So, I’m at the Beer Store, looking through all the options. I must admit that while I loathe the concept of a government-controlled store, I am in awe at their variety. It could be worse, I guess. It could be only Molson and Labatt’s.
When I go to the Beer Store, it’s when I go to buy a larger amount of beer. as in, a case, or a 12-pack. But for my beer can collection, I go to the LCBO. For those of you not familiar with the concept, The Beer Store and the LCBO are both government-controlled centres for the distribution of alcohol. At the Beer Store, of course, you buy beer. And at the LCBO is where you find wines, spirits, liquors, and yes, beer too.
Sadly, this particular weekend wasn’t an adventure in expanding my can collection.

Anyhoo, I was saying that I’m not a beer snob. Perusing through the variety at said Beer Store, I was more interested in looking at the price tags than at the actual beers. I ended up buying the one beer I always buy. It’s one of the “budget” beers, but the only one I’ve found that doesn’t leave you with a bitter, earthy aftertaste: Carling Lager. Fuck, when even Molson and Budweiser go for 40 bucks a case, I feel like I’m ripping them off paying 27 for a case of Carling.
Truth is, Carling is quite good. Maybe beer snobs will scoff at that sentence I just wrote, but for a non-snob such as myself, it is actually a very nice beer.

Sometimes, though, things happen that make even the least of beer snobs vomit a little inside our mouths. See, I just established the fact that I purchased a case of “budget” beer, and yet I can’t get over the fact that there are really obtuse people out there.
Standing in line at the register, I saw a guy walk in, straight to the cashier. No browsing around, no nothing. Just straight up to the cashier. “I’ll have a case of Bud Light”, he said.
I know, I know, to each his own and all that, but for fuck’s sake, Bud Light? BUD FUCKING LIGHT? At a store where you can purchase Stella Artois, Sapporo, Sleeman’s Honey Brew, and a random assortment of beers from such faraway places as Singapore and the Caribbean?
I felt like telling the dude. I felt like grabbing him by the collar and screaming into his face, “you DO know that you can get much better beer than BUD FUCKING LIGHT for the same price, right?”. But I opted not to. After all, it’s his business what he drinks or what he offers to his friends.

So, I guess I feel a little bit hypocritical. But that’s ok. I still have a couple of Carlings for when I get home from work.

The Iceberg.

Flying is not always a smooth adventure. There are several things which could potentially scare the shit out of the inexperienced flier. Turbulence, weird cabin noises, pressure changes, and that thing they do with the plane’s wings where they seem to be about to fall apart.
Which is why a bit of good advice for the inexperienced is to watch the flight attendants. If they don’t freak out, there’s no reason for you to. They (along with the flight crew, but airline restrictions keep you from watching them) are in-the-know, and they are familiar with the subtle difference between a light turbulence and a 27,000 foot plunge into certain death.
In other words, if they don’t give a shit, why should you?

That is a principle I’ve recently started to apply at work. Let’s face it, when all things are considered (being an “indirect employee” I don’t receive a bonus, they only value seniority, etc), I’m one of the lowest-paid employees in the plant. And yet, I always give 110%, I try to stay on top of my own shit, and everybody else’s. I care, and worry, and throw hissy-fits when things don’t work out like they should. And for what? The higher-ups, the ones that should care about shit and take the steps necessary to eliminate these problems, carry on with their jobs as if nothing wrong was going on. So why shouldn’t I?
It’s not the typical cop-out. I’m not saying “hey, I don’t get paid enough to worry”. It’s simply not my responsibility to go around giving a damn about everything. I’ll just continue doing my job, and ignore everything else that goes on around me. After all, if they like things just the way they are, it’s their goddamned right. They’re the ones that make the decisions, not me.

Steps to a stress-free lifestyle, says I.

The Iceberg.