Man Fashions Knife out of Shit, Kills Dog, Uses Ribcage as Makeshift Sled

I didn't believe it when Roberta told me this story a few days ago at work.  She told me it was part of a sort of lecture about different cultures that was videotaped and uploaded onto some website.  Curious, I followed her directions to a website called ted.com.  I'm still not sure what the objective of the site is officially, but it seems to just be a collection of talks or informal lectures from experts in their respective fields for the sole purpose of sharing ideas.  After watching the video that Roberta was talking about, which was by a man from National Geographic who explores human culture (or the ethnosphere as he called it), I was hooked. 

I watched another talk from a neurologist who explored the functions of the brain by researching people with selective brain damage or conditions such as phantom limb.  He also researched people with synesthesia, which is where a person is able to smell a sound or a see a certain musical tone as a colour.  This condition, this intermingling of different areas of the brain is more prevalent in artists, he said, and could be the reason why we can understand metaphors and abstract thinking.  Fascinating stuff.

It doesn't seem like the talks have a overarching theme, either.  It kinda makes the whole thing seem like the Wikipedia of the YouTube world.  A sort of intellectual time waster.  I guess I'm just happy to find a video site that is entertaining, yet interesting enough to talk about the next day.

Germs Are and Will Always Be Part of Your Complete Breakfast

My mother was a health nut.  When my brothers and I were young, she militantly made us wash our hands before a meal.  Even before we used the computer.  She had a subscription to Prevention magazine and she would bring up relevant topics from it while engaged in a typical family dinner.  When I got a cold, she would shake her head with a knowing smile and tell me--making sure my brothers were within earshot--that I should have heeded her advice.  Then, she would make sure that I washed my hands twice as often to make sure my brothers did not get infected.  Especially after rubbing my eyes or wiping a line of snot on the back of my hand.

It makes sense.  It's her motherly instinct to make sure her sons don't get sick and die.  But, I had always thought she was a little too germ conscience.  It's just a little cold, right?  Everyone gets one eventually.  Why bother trying to delay the inevitable?

Even though my brothers and I thought she was going a little overboard, we would still wash our hands before meals, usually after reaching a certain quota of whining.  Looking back on it, though, I think she was fighting an equal and opposite force: a child's instincts towards curiousity, exploration and a certain penchant for getting really, really dirty.  Perhaps children's immune systems just up and say "hey kid, we're bored.  Go lick dirt."  It might cause sickness, stomach cramps and the like, but you'll be all the better for it after.

Thus, germs are good for you.  They make you fitter, happier, possibly even more productive.  Right?

I took the Food Handler's Safety course today and the instructor told us of one particular adventure she had in health inspecting where a bakery actually had pigeons flying around in the production area.  When she asked why nothing had been done about it, the workers promptly set about killing the pigeons right in front of her.

There are limits to everything, people.

Placebo Overdose

Saw two stupendous shows at Winnipeg's own Royal Albert Arms this month.

Thursday the first of November brought Electro Quarterstaff.  Electro Quarterstaff, in turn, came three guitars strong (and one bass...er...wide?) and delivered some wicked guitarmonies to the Albert.  The Albert--bless it's misguided-but-well-meaning pillar--then wrapped the whole deal up in a nice numbing blanket of beer that grew thicker and warmer as the night drew on.  The name of the opening band escapes me for the moment, but it was a local drum and bass duo ala Death From Above and I think I enjoyed them slightly more than Electro.  They had a similar style, but seemed tighter and more coherent.  Though, that could be because by the time Electro Quarterstaff hit the stage, my blanket of beer was already three or four layers thick and their sound muddied into a very loud and frantic drone. 

This is not to say the show was not enjoyable, the pounding of the double-kicks was so intense, I ended up closing my eyes just to let the rhythm hit my chest.  An odd thing to do at a metal show, sure.  Especially since the last metal-esque show I saw at the Albert was the Fucking Champs and I kicked it in the pit.

Last Monday Caribou came to the Albert.  I was set on going to this show no matter what, but I was delighted to hear that it was going to be at the Albert because the Albert will only kick ass for another month before being released into the wilds of new ownership, renovation and probable sterility and impotency.  I needed to get the most out of the Albert before it loses it's drive. 

Anyways, I was pumped for the show.  Caribou's new album is a delightful throwback to 60s era psychedelia which could have stirred some latent desire to do drugs because I really wanted to smoke up before the show. 

Turns out I didn't need to. 

Like his show last year, frontman Dan Snaith brought with him his entourage (which this time seemed to consist of three indie-rock hobbits, the bassist looking almost identical to Pippin) and a video projector to make sure your senses are properly bombarded on all applicable AV fronts.  But they chose to forgo the cute little animations of crows and cowboys of last year for a more simplistic and effective approach of bright colours and patterns that flashed and swirled in time with the music.  The songs they played were identical to their recorded counterparts.  I guess the DVD that supplied the visuals also supplied some instruments and vocals that were on the album that could not be duplicated with a four-man band. 

But even though Caribou was missing some of the immediacy and imperfections I enjoy about seeing a band live, the show was pure gravy.  Bars of colour flashed to the drums.  They never missed a beat.  People danced.  I couldn't stop staring at the bright shininess of blues, whites and reds.  My mouth must have gone slack because my eyes and ears were too busy trying to keep up with all the stimulus.  Everything was perfect. 

Heh.  I just think it's funny that the last two Albert shows I've been at--and quite possibly the last two shows I'll ever go to--probably made me look like a total stoner when I never touch the stuff.

Thanks, the Albert.  Look what you've done.  Now I'm going to start saying stupid things like "music is my drug" and "bright shininess".  Ah, but they were good times.  I'll be sad to see you go.

Gak!

How'd this happen?  How did i end up on this site and acting as if i'm going to write a journal entry?  How long has it been?  A year?  No.  Lies.  Half that. 

Now that you're here, what are you going to do, Marlon?  You going to finish this entry?  Like so many of your dead projects?  Besides, it's been said that people who journal are much more likely to have anxiety problems or something.  Science says so.  Or did science say that people who have anxiety write journals?  Science always seems to change it's mind.

Screw science, that flippant jerk, i can conduct my own experiment on journals and the effects on my own person.  I learned the scientific method in grade 8, this should be easy.  Let's see...

Objective: To observe and record the physiological and emotional effects of writing on Marlon's human brain.  Not writing on Marlon's brain but the act of writing on Marlon's brain.  Er...you know what it means.

Hypothesis: Marlon will sporadically and unevenly write entries, thusly making data gathering a rather difficult hoop-jumping affair and a test of the core beliefs/practices of science itself.  Possibly resulting in the degradation of scientists' reputations around the world and the need for a new scientific method.

Equipment: Marlon's Brain, delicious Orange-Carrot flavoured Sobe beverages and Winamp.

Procedure: Mix equipment in a small apartment.  Chill and enjoy.

Observation: Marlon has written one entry.  No physiological differences can be seen at this point, i.e. he has not sporadically lost any hair nor grown a full beard.  Seems to be getting some sort of satisfaction at the simple notion that he is in fact writing something.  Anything.

Conclusion: Science cannot help him grow a beard.

Well.  That was an interesting experiment.  Though, there are seven steps to the scientific method.  I forget what it is.  But, it was fun and I suppose we might be seeing more of each other, journal.  But not too much more.

I'm off to the Toad.