This is a slightly “the more you know”-esque post. Teaching must be a difficult profession. Here a few of my better teachers:

Mr. Grant – Grade 4 English

Mr. Grant gave me and a few of my classmates a special assignment to read a book that was slightly above the grade 4 level (or so I thought). He seemed like an actual human being, as opposed to the other teachers which seemed like, well, teachers.
 

Mr. Griesbauer – Grade 12 Computer

I remember being amazed at how the same few kids who would practically crucify the teacher in first period would then engage in a meaningful and pertinent debate with Mr. Griesbauer only a few minutes later. The difference between him and the other teachers was that there was a mutual respect. He encouraged me to pursue my current career path and even helped me get a job to get me started. I understand he’s since been swallowed up by an administrative position.
 

Ms. Willis – Grade 12 Math

Since she was the principal we had all assumed she was a crazy and vindictive woman. As it turns out, she was very good at teaching math and took a genuine interest in each of her students. By the time I took her class she was only teaching the one course and spending the rest of her time with her duties as principal. I remember one day she asked us if we felt she didn’t have enough time to adequately teach the class since she was principal. It was risky to ask a meaningful question like that to a class of teenagers. She was leaving herself vulnerable. In an uncharacteristic display of maturity, we told her that not only was she doing a great job teaching, but that she should teach more. I think she’s full-time administration now.

I would like to offer apologies to our more aged readers. Please be aware that Rob’s opinions do not necessarily reflect those of the remainder of aov. “Grandmother sex” (see post below) is, of course, a beautiful and natural thing and we here at aov (myself, at least) would like to stress that we are very supportive of all the seniors out there who enjoy satisfying sex lives. Not so supportive that we’d like to actually hear about your sex lives though. And no pictures. I cannot make that clear enough. No pictures. None.

So, to sum up: Enjoy all the “grandmother sex” you can get, but go easy. Paramedics prefer their heart attack victims fully clothed.

It’s always refreshing to look at where our hits come from, who the referers are.

So, I looked and was saddened to find folowing Google search criteria which returned our site, and was then clicked on because the searchers thought we had what they wanted:

(not for those easily offended)

• +”rob fletcher”+video (!!!)
• grandmother+sex+stories (disgusting)
• porn+e+cards (mildly amusing)
• sex+winamp+plug (mildly disturbing)

I can remember when you got when you searched for. Then I remember when you would find hardcore porn if you were looking for something innocent. Now the table has turned. All those porn freaks who made it so bad for us all are getting a taste of thier own medicine. Hard luck finding content when you wanted pr0n.

Are there any celebrities who share my name? If not, I should be concerned by porn hunter out there with my full name.

Because I write a great many things which do not go anywhere. This is as good a place as any:

The Zyphoid Process
She punched him as hard as she could. He felt her fist land just below his ribs. It hurt like hell. He couldn’t breathe.

He felt her fist land, centred just below his ribs, right on that bone – the one whose name he could never remember, except that it started with a “z”. It hurt like hell and he remembered in first aid class how they were all told to be careful when doing the Heimlich manoeuvre. If you went too high, you could hit that bone which extends like a tab between the bottom of the ribs and starts with the letter “z”. You could hit that bone and break it off.

He could hear her crying. Turning around to leave. She was walking away.

He thought about the bone snapping off from the breastbone and floating around his chest. He tried to remember first aid class. Did it lacerate the heart, or puncture the lungs?

He thought about that sharp fragment of bone, severed and misplaced, floating about his chest. He thought about that jagged, errant satellite orbiting his vitals. What was that tickle in his chest?

He couldn’t breathe and he thought about a sharp fragment of bone floating around his chest and slicing open his heart.

By the time the pain subsided and he thought to open his eyes, the hallway was empty and she was half a block away.

The Cadre’s Poetry Spectacular is out on the newsstand, busy living up to its title.

Featuring a cover designed by silverorange’s Geoff Gibson, this issue of UPEI’s student newspaper is actually better than sliced bread. It features poets who run the gamut from first time bards to weathered veterans of the genre who have books of poetry under their proverbial belts.

Anyone wishing to get their greedy little paws on the Island’s finest print publication should visit the Robertson or Main buildings on campus. The Cadre is also available at finer coffeehouses and bookstores around Charlottetown.

I should also mention (in a breezy, offhand, devil-may-care fashion) that I will be The Cadre’s Editor-in-Chief next year. As such, I will soon be defaming people in print, as well as on the Internet.

Many thanks to media guru Dave Moses and fellow aovist Rob Fletcher for their submissions.

I can’t poke amusment out of that campaign, no matter how cheesy they appear to be, because the person creating those ads is unmistakably a genius. I say this because those commercials stick in your head for years.

I was also impressed by thier effort to make that anti-commercial with the skateboarders sitting on a fancy car going on about how stupid McCain commercials are and how much they love the mouth watering taste of pizza pockets. The second anticommercial just left me confused and hungry.

Now it seems McCain is using sex to sell thier frozen goods. It’s worse than a beer commercial. What’s the deal with that girl who looks like Elaine from Seinfeld? I was under the impression that the ladies preferred wine and fancy dinner to a lipsmackingly scrumptious McCain’s frozen pizza.

Maybe that’s why I’m 18 and still don’t have a wife and children.

IslandEdition.com’s latest editorial lashes out at the false courage of anonymous cowards in online communities. He sounds pissed off, but don’t let that cloud your reading of the article. I still think he’s right.

Frying up burgers like they was motherfuckers.
Yes. He do.

Check out “Canada Geese” from Gordon Downie’s solo album, “Coke Machine Glow.” The Tragically Hip meet Frank Black. Very nice. Yes.