I do not receive enough adulation from the public. Is it so much to ask that, instead of fallacy ridden emails that obliquely threaten legal action*, you send me gifts? Of course not.
My only thought has been that perhaps I am too difficult to shop for. To that end I present you with a short list:

Mr. Suicide Bathtub or Sink Drain Plug – better than a rubber duckie.
Beck Stuff – I like red.

Actually, that’s it. That’s all I want. I just want a bathtub plug and a t-shirt (or a sweatshirt)! That’s it!
I mean, sure I’d like to own a car that I could kick snow off without simultaneously ripping holes in the frame. And, sure, when Stats Canada called, I was embarrassed (see Jennifer, I can spell) to admit that I hadn’t spent a thing on “paid companions” (who are grouped with gardeners and maids for some reason). But really, all I want is some Beck swag and a lousy bathtub plug with a dead guy hanging from the chain.
I’m doing my very best to be reasonable folks. It’s not easy.

* I regret that I cannot produce said email for your perusal. You would laugh and cry. You would – but you will not.

A few weeks ago, we solicited submissions of writing for an upcoming aov feature on memorable rock concert experiences. We have been working hard writing our own experiences (this statement is not true) and we would like some help.

While the standard has been set high by an astounding account of a Platinum Blonde concert in the Sherwood Sportplex in the mid 80’s, we welcome all kinds of submissions regardless of length, format, quality, relevance, etc.

Send your submission to thegeniuses@actsofvolition.com.

The arbitrary deadline for submissions is January 31.

KirbyFerguson (.com) has abused his photo-editing skills and turned what he calls a “dream” in to a horrible nightmare for all of us.

In another flagrant abuse of the tools at his disposal, Kirby may have inadvertently created some prize winning work.

I, being frightfully young, criminally immature and not possesing cable television, cannot say that I knew Al Waxman’s work well. It came as somewhat of a surprise to me then, that I should be at all affected by his death. For this turn of events, credit should go to one Kent Bruyneel. Read his moving tribute to the “King of Kensington” here.

Check out this great thread on IslandEdition.com.

The chain of events took place as follows:

1. A co-worker gets a computer game, Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 (warning, this links to a totally x-treme website – mountain dew big-slams recommended), for Christmas.
2. He leaves it at the office.
3. My life deteriorates into a blur of late nights full of kick-flips, 720’s, and ollie transfers.

A real low point in my addiction to the ridiculous game came when a few of my friends were sitting around complaining about our injuries from the playing the game (sore wrists, etc.). As soon as we realized what we were doing, the conversation came to an abrupt end.

This post was not meant to be about my pathetic addiction to a computer game, which appears to have been inevitable, but rather about a triumph of the Internet search technology.

One of the goals in the foolish game is to “Bluntside the Awning”. This meant as much to me as it does to you (nothing) and it was an important goal that I needed to complete in the game (I know, I know). Frustrated, confused, and all the while ashamed of myself, I went to AskJeeves.com and posed the simple but arcane query, “How do I bluntside the awning?”

The first result was my answer. Well done, Internet.

Genius causes both adulation and envy. It also causes confusion and indifferce* in those who are simply too slow, whose brains are too atrophied and stunted** to accept anything they haven’t already seen.

We are familiar with love. We receive it in quantities which would make you blush. Sometimes though, those fearful of our talents, embarrased that they lack our intellect and savoir-faire, send us hate:

Goddamn it Dorrel, you theiving bastard, I will have you balls for this
obvious and out-right theft–even if you said it first . . . and yeah I know dorrel has two l’s,
you bastard . . . Goddamn it, I am so mad I can hardly finish the second period of NHL 2000.

Of course I have no inkling as to what might have set this person, who shall remain unnamed, off. Clearly though, he*** needs help. Being the magnificent human that I am, I bear him/her no ill-will and have already forgiven his/her abuse.

* There is a link to, and description of, aov somewhere on the page.
** The page linked to is filled with text so trite and cliched (imagine an accent on the e) that I cannot begin to think of anything appropriately caustic to say about it.
*** Or she, as the case may be.
**** Abusing footnotes would be more fun if I knew how to make little numbers appear instead of asterisks.