Iceberglandia

Well, here I am in sunny Mxico. And by  “sunny” I mean it’s cloudy and cold. Not as cold as Canada, of course, but still, some warm weather would have been nice.
The trip was another one from hell. As things turned out, the only place I left on time was Toronto – the one I was worried about. My stay in stupid Dallas, Tx. was prolonged from 4 and a half hours to about six, thanks to some dumbas who lost his passport, so he couldn’t board the plane, so of course the ever-magnificent TSA had to go through all the luggae to pul his hit off the plane. Finally, at 5 PM (local time) we landed in Monterrey, and by the time I went through customs and immigration, it was 5.30. I find it amusing that I enter the country I was born in as a tourist, but it’s better that way.
I ran out of the airport for a smoke, after the disappointment of having nobody there to pick me up. I had fantasized about my girlfriend being there. I went to buy my ticket for the bus that would deliver me to my village. They said “well, you can grab the next shuttle to the bus station at 6, and your bus leaves at 7.05″. I grabbed said shuttle, and due to traffic, got to the bus station at 7.30. Lucky for me, the next bus left at 7.45, and it wasn-t ful, so I got on it. I arrived here somewhere around midnight, talked for a bit with my girlfriend, who was nice enough to receive me with a bottle of booze.
The thing about my trip was that I had gotten up around 8.30 in the morning on thursday. I had gone to work, got home around midnight, and fucked around until 3 am, when the taxi picked me up. almost 24 hours had passed before I slept again, if only an hour-long nap on the first plane. I guess I slept another hour on the second plane. I did, however, manage to sleep all of 3.5 hours on the bus here. Funny, how a mexican bus would turn out to be much more comfortable than any plane I’ve flown in in the last 5 years.
While I goofed around in Dallas, I went through security like, 3 times. I kept going out for smokes,since the lines weren’t all that long. I ate at Fuddruckers, or whatever it’s called. “Greatest hamburger in the world”, they say. Um, no. Frozen patties on overtoasted buns do not a great hamburger make. ANyway, I wasn’t there as  food critic, and I was hungry, so down it went.

On saturday I tried contacting some friends and family. I was on a “first come, first serve” basis, and the first one to invite me over was my sister. We had dinner, and a couple of friends replied. But when I mentioned I was at my sister’s, they said we’d talk the next day. I started my food sampling at one of my favorite places, albeit one of their shittier locations. “Gorditas Doña Tota”, it’s called. THe fod is good, but I’ve always had a thing with their service. In this particular instance, it was shittier than usual. But oh well, at least I ate.

Sunday was funny. Not HA! HA! funny, just full of oddities. I ate some tacos from a shitty joint. But they’re really famous for being good. PLus, it’s close to the place I’m renting. And, for the equivalent of 5 canadian dollars, the girlfriend and I ate a whole feast. I tried catching some NFL on TV, but just as I turned the TV on, both games were ending. I did catch the NYG game, which ended in OT, so that was good. I tried contacting al kinds of friends and family, but no luck. NObody was able to respond, even with a shitty text message. So, aprt from my girlfriend, the only people I’ve seen so far are my sister, my nephew and one of my nieces.
Oh, I did some shopping.

Today, I am currently on my way downtown to see if I can once and for al put an end to my Christmas shopping, but I managed to find an internet place that was actually OPEN, so here I am.

I hope somebody shows up today.

The Iceberg.

PS
I’ll edit the spelling errors later. FOr whatever reason, when I try to correct something, this stupid thing eats my words. If I don’t see you before, well, Merry Christmas.

I’m typing this at 2.09 AM, just before I unplug all my shit. The taxi service arrives at 3.

I’ll do my best to keep posting while down there, and I can’t promise to write right away when I get back, because my “friends” at Bell will surely cancel my service (they called the other day and I told them I’d pay today, so…). If the WordPress app I have on my iPhone works, I’ll try to write from there.

In any case, if I don’t see you, Happy Holidays, don’t drink and drive, and brace yourselves for 2009. It’s promising to be a very wild ride.

The Iceberg.

I don’t pay THAT much attention to commercials, so if I’m wrong that most of these belong to Airwick products, forgive me. But seriously, do they need an animated frog, or an elephant bitch (who happens to me married to a centipede – the wedding night must’ve been a riot)… or a fucking kangaroo to sell their products?

Then there’s that stingy bear mom, always taking what she deems excessive product away from her cub’s selections (ice cream, toilet paper, whatever) in the Charmin toilet paper commercials. It’s paper, for wiping excess feces from your asshole. Where do bears enter the equation? The only way I relate bears and ass-wiping is in that joke with the bear and the rabbit. As in “a bear and a rabbit are taking a shit in the woods. The bear asks the rabbit if he has trouble with shit sticking to his fur, to which the rabbit replies negatively, so the bear grabs the rabbit and wipes his own ass with it.”
Speaking of animals promoting the use of certain hygiene products, that annoying puppy from those toilet paper commercials should be run over. Soon. And I love dogs, especially Labradors, but that one in particular pisses me off.

I mean… c’mon. If your brand logo is a certain species of fauna, OK. Like, if you have a certain chain of hair products called Aussie, or whatever, feel free to put a fucking kangaroo on. Or a koala. Although I’d prefer a dingo, or a great white shark (the other australian species – hee hee).
Even if your “mascot” is an animal, yes, I’ll let it slide. Even if it’s an inconceivable concept that a tiger would feast on sugar-coated flakes of corn, or a tropical bird would indulge in artificially-flavored cereal. At least the Trix rabbit gets told to fuck the hell off, because cereal is for human children, not Leporidae.

Of course, if it’s a commercial for cat food, by all means go ahead and show cats. Dog food? Put a dog in it. But for products designed with human consumption in mind, for fuck’s sake, use humans! Preferably, pretty, female, and nude, like in Europe. That would sell more scented candles than a fucking marsupial that in real life must smell worse than the candles themselves.

It’s always “cute” animals, too. I’d buy anything, including – but not limited to – tampons, vegetable soup, car wax or floor cleaners, if they were sponsored by venomous spiders, gila monsters, hyenas, komodo dragons, piranha, octopii, praying mantis, scorpions or even wildebeest.

To quote George Carlin, “these are the kind of thoughts that kept me out of the really good schools”.

The Iceberg.

It gives me the opportunity to engage in two of my favorite activities.

On one hand, it allows me to tell everyone how much I hate Christmastime (I apologize if you find this post’s title misleading). Let’s face it, between “black friday” and the time all the Christmas clearance sales end, fucking Christmastime takes up 25% of the year. During this period, we’re subjected to the same ten fucking songs. Even if they’re sung by different people, it’s still the same songs, over and over and over again. Whether it’s Jingle Bells, or the Drummer Boy or whatever the fuck it’s called. The one that gets me the most, the one people should beware playing anywhere near me because I might just snap and kill people and scream at 6-year-olds that Santa isn’t real, is that bullshit song “Jingle Bell Rock”. Oh my fucking god, I’d rather be locked in a room for a year listening to the Macarena or “My Humps” on a loop, than to listen to “Jingle Bell Rock” one more time. Well, that one, and “Deck The Halls”.
Oh, and have I mentioned the mexican carols? Had the Virgin Mary listened to what Mexico had to offer, she would have had an abortion. Songs about donkeys having a late departure to see Jesus (Arre Borriquito), songs about fish drinking water because Jesus was born (Los Peces en el Rio), and a sad attempt to give tribute to the mexicanized version of the Virgin Mary (La Marimorena).  Fuck, I wish I had cancer so I had more important things to worry about.
We’re subjected to seeing fucking Santa Clauses EVERYWHERE, from Coke cans, to idiots on the street trying to make a buck.
We’re subjected to stupid “Christmas sales” on every product imaginable. And while it’s certainly appealing to save 2 dollars on a fucking thing because it’s almost Christmas, it’s just not worth it, because in order to get such a “deal”, you have to put up with every single moronic cliché the season has to offer.
We’re subjected to the inevitable “christmas party”, either with friends, or with coworkers. “Posadas”, they’re called in Mexico. Fuck’em here, and fuck’em in Mexico.
You know what we’re hardly ever subjected to, though? Baby Jesus. Now, I’m not religious by any stretch, but isn’t that the whole idea of, um, CHRISTmas?

On the other hand, it entertains me to go out to the stores and see people buying gifts for other people. ‘Cause, some of the things they buy, man! I’d hate to be on the receiving end of such shitty shopping! I mean, I’m not one to judge, and maybe little Billy will be delighted to see that Grandma went and got him some british chocolates (and the good guy in me certainly hopes so!), but then you get these cheap-ass people putting things into their shopping carts, that, well, have no place under a Christmas tree.
Just today, I saw a granny select 3 posters from the store. I’m guessing Granny isn’t a big fan of Spiderman 3, High School Musical, and The Dark Knight. I’m also guessing her grandkids weren’t expecting $5.99 posters from Zellers.
I saw a guy buying roller skates. He actually asked the salesperson, “will these fit a 3-year-old?”. Shit. If I even thought of putting a toddler on wheels, I’d be crucified.
My favorite? A couple buying, AS A GIFT, a fold-up table. And asking for it to be wrapped.
You know who WILL be having a Merry Christmas, though? The ladies in front of me at the liquor store. I can’t run you a full inventory on everything they bought, but suffice to say I happened to see their tally, and it was 431 dollars. They even had to ask for assistance to deliver their bags to their car.

So, I guess this is my Christmas-topic post. In a week I’ll be in Mexico, so I don’t really give a shit. But if it helps to warm your heart, the Iceberg wishes you a Merry Christmas. Just don’t go buying fold-up tables as a gift.
I’d say Happy New Year, as well, but with “the economy” being what it is, I don’t want to get your hopes up. In any case, Cheers!

The Iceberg.

It’s not enough to have my head filled with the stupidest earworms* on a daily basis. In fact, I have several notes on my computer (rough drafts, if you will) made about the mental jukebox I carry around. No, some nights become “theme nights”.

See, yesterday yet another guy asked me if I was going to drink a lot of tequila when the conversation turned to my upcoming trip to Mexico. I started thinking about how it pisses me off, and how I wanted to put my hands around the guy’s neck, and SQUEEZE! like on that Scatterbrain song, Don’t Call Me Dude. Then, for whatever reason (yes, it’s a great song, but it’s been years since I’ve paid attention to Queensrÿche) I Don’t Believe In Love popped in my head. Not long after, and this is a regular occurence, a Faith No More song. This time, Zombie Eaters.

By the time my shift at work ended, I had gone through Warrior Soul’s The Wasteland, Tesla’s Edison’s Medicine, Spread Eagle’s Broken City, Van Halen’s Good Enough and Skid Row’s Big Guns.

The worst part is, I actually sing them. Well, if you can call my monotonous mumbling singing. Like I could ever sound like Geoff Tate. Pfffft!

Yup, I’m one weird SOB.

The Iceberg

*Earworm: A song you can’t get out of your mind

Not that I go against my will, or anything… but these trips I make to Mexico fuck me up royally.

First, there’s the routine. I don’t live with a strict routine, mind you. But I try to create a certain pattern in my life, a set of rules if you will. Like, I drink only on the weekend. I never smoke a cigarette within an hour of another one. I get up when the alarm goes off (or I tire of hitting the snooze button). I go to bed at roughly the same time, every day (weekend or not). I eat before work, and then have a cup of yogurt and a couple slices of ham when I get home. I try really hard not to spend on unnecessary items (booze and smokes not included). I drink at least 2 bottles of water a day. The list goes on.
Going to Mexico, all that goes out the window. I have a free license to smoke and drink however much the fuck I want, I spend freely on whatever trinket I find to my liking, I eat like a fucking pig (and really unhealthy shit, too… but hey, it’s just that good), my sleep patterns are subjected to however late my friends and I can stay up, and/or when my daughter, nephew and nieces decide I’ve slept too much (usually by 9 AM).
Which is great, don’t get me wrong. I love the lifestyle I indulge in whenever I’m down there. It’s the getting back to form that fucks me up. First, I get back all fat and shit, so it freaks me out when by February or March I still weigh more than I did before leaving. Of course, by the time I get back, my stomach is used to being fed all the time, so it won’t settle for some stupid yogurt. It wants tacos, dammit!

Second, there’s the financial patterns that get fucked up. You know, I get back, and I suddenly owe the phone company (yes, THOSE fuckers I’ve mentioned a bit around here), the landlord, the other phone company (kid wanted his iPhone, after all), and others a lot more than what I pay monthly, because in order to save up for the trip, I “sacrifice” my bill payments… plus, returning from Mexico, I’m broke. So that’s another thing that fucks me up.

Third, I always create all these expectations. Like, “Oh yeah, I’m going to see all my friends, and it’s gonna rock!”, and then the two times I see my friends, they end up discussing politics or some other crap (fucking friends, and their growing up…); or “Oh yeah! I’m gonna see my family!” and it all becomes a huge drama about how I’m the bad guy because I get pissed off at certain events in which, believe me, I wasn’t the bad guy.
I might be exaggerating a little bit. But that’s because of my expectations and the wide gap between them and what actually ends up happening.
So when I get back, I feel disappointed. To an extent, I’m entitled to. I just travelled 3000 miles and spent a small fortune so I could go over there and hang out, and for the most part nobody gives a shit. It’s more like, “oh, hey, there’s the Iceberg. Huh.”

Fourth, upon returning, there’s that emptiness. I’ve been lucky to be able to fly down every six months or so, so it’s become a kind of cycle during which I start saving, planning, etc., and I end up actually going down there. Returning puts an end to the cycle, and the start of another one. Arriving to an empty house, thinking about going back to the routine, work, etc… That sucks, man, big time.

But, all I can think of right now is that in two weeks, I’ll be there. Away from the minus-fucking-twentytwo-celsius weather, in the land of vitamin T.

And I can’t fucking wait.

The Iceberg.

I have a confession to make.

I’ve been known to download music from the internet.

There are, for the most part, two kinds of comments such a confession as mine will elicit.

Type I: Hey, Iceberg, who hasn’t?

Type II: Fuck you, Iceberg, you thieving pirate you! Downloading is stealing!

And there’s a couple of things I’d like to say about type II comments.

First, it’s not stealing. Stealing means depriving someone of something they rightfully own. If I broke into the studio and swiped, um, AC/DC’s master tapes and released them as my own, THAT would be stealing. If I went into HMV or MusicWorld and walked out with the White Zombie box set under my shirt, THAT would be stealing.
As for the copyright infringement thing, well, yes, something can be said about that. But as I mentioned in a previous post, copyright laws are stupid, as are most laws which have been lobbied in by corporations.
Then, there’s the argument that I’m depriving the artists, the labels, etc. of revenue. That’s a big NO. I, along with many people, live on a budget that doesn’t allow me to purchase every fucking thing the industry releases. So, if I wasn’t going to buy Alice In Chains’ Unplugged album anyway, how am I depriving anybody of anything? (SPECIAL NOTE: I actually owned Alice In Chains’ Unplugged – along with over 1000 albums, cassettes and cds, but lost them when I moved to Canada).

Second, who’s ripping who off? Really? I assume those high and mighty people who frown upon us, the downloaders, purchase everything, and I mean EVERYTHING from their favourite artists. When the cassettes they had came out on CD, they went and bought the CD. Then they paid again for the Greatest Hits album. Then they paid again for the REMASTERED! version. Then the Special 2-CD edition. And thanks to eBay, they’ve gotten their hands on the Japanese Edition (includes one bonus track!), the Scandinavian Edition (Includes another bonus track!) and the South American version (includes the hit song… IN SPANISH!). So, all in all, they’ve paid $15 bucks on average, 7 or 8 times, for the same product with minor tweaks. And they think they’re in a position to act intelligently.
On a side note, what’s with these geographically based bonus tracks? I don’t see the artist saying “well, this song, I reckon will be loved by the Japanese and the Aussies, but not by Americans or Europeans. On the other hand, this one will be big in Europe, but not anywhere else”. That’s an idea by the music industry to get the “collectors” to buy the same shit again and again. And I’m the thief?

Third, and try to think about this one, it’s human nature for people to try to get away with things. Honestly, if people could download food and clothing, don’t you think they would? If all it took was hitting “download” to have it, wouldn’t we all be driving Mitsubishi Outlanders? Well, maybe Ferraris and Lamborghinis, but you get the idea.
Hey, I’m not saying downloading music is the most moral thing in the world, but there are worse things.

Fourth, and I speak only from my personal experience, downloading music is a great way to discover new artists, trends, etc. Downloading is how I discovered Slipknot, for example, back in the day. Yes, I had downloaded “Slipknot”, and “Iowa”. If not for that fact, “Live 9.0 wouldn’t be sitting on my bookshelf, because upon walking into the store, I would’ve said “who the fuck is Slipknot?”.
Way back in those days, I also downloaded “The Sickness”, by Disturbed. That turned out in that, in a night of drinking and partying, a couple of my friends listened to the album and bought it (and its followup “Believe”) afterwards.
I’m not in a big concert town (the fact that Toronto is an hour away can’t matter, since I don’t have a car), but if I could, I’d spend a lot of time going to shows, supporting the bands, buying the T-shirt… This includes a shitload of bands I would’ve otherwise never known of.

Fifth… Do the people that denounce downloading and call downloaders thieves see the hypocrisy of their comments when they use the internet? Like, “oh, I read on the NY Times website that…”. Yeah, fucker. You didn’t buy the paper. You cost the NYT revenue!
Yes, I’m aware that it’s not a sane comparison, but if we’re taking the high road, we might as well go all the way.

Finally, let’s talk morals here. The music industry pays politicians to make laws that protect them. Then they get together and decide to charge upwards of 15 bucks for a product they invest very little in. I don’t mean “but it costs $1 to make a CD”, becasure that’s stupid. There’s other expenses. But still, their markup is quite high. Then they do the things I mentioned previously (make 100 versions of the same product). Then they get the RIAA to enforce the laws that protect them. They pay their top artists to make statements against music downloading, in order to influence opinion. They devise “creative” systems to make their products “undownloadable” which only result in people not being able to listen to their cds on their computer, or making their legal copy so they can put it in their iPod. And we’re the immoral ones?
What about the RICAA (Record Insustry Consumers Association of America)? Oh, yeah. It doesn’t exist.

So, yes… I download music. Sorry. But most of what I download is stuff that I can’t find in record stores anyway. HMV and Music World’s heavy metal section is mostly Slipknot, Slayer and Stone Sour. Not that there’s anything wrong with those bands, but I’d appreciate more options.

Oh, and another thing… If I download, say, “Umbrella” by Rihanna (not that I would, mind you), can I really be accused of “stealing” the album? If anything, I “stole” the single.

The Iceberg

P.S.
Note that downloading and pirating is not the same thing. I’m not defending the people that make a buck out of selling pirated versions of products. THAT is illegal.