Don’t look for meaning in the title of this post. It’s a joke from the weekend that I don’t care to get into right now because I’m not in the mood for jokes. Or riddles. Or games. So keep those things at home, today. I’m only mentioning Dead Baby in my Motherboard because it would be a pretty strange thing to find you’re computer’s not working because a baby got in there and bit down on a chip, wouldn’t it?

And odd way to start a post, I’ll admit. This past weekend was overall quite good till the end of it. Yesterday night, as I was about to put some cookies away during a break in an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000, I flicked on the kitchen light switch and it came flying out of the wall. The plastic switch bounced off the counter several times before coming to a stop by the sink. I looked at the wall where the switch used to be to see a protruding spring and the innards of the switch mechanism. It wasn’t the entire switch that popped out, just the button. The big, flat button that rocks back and forth. It had come loose because the little pieces of plastic that held it in at its fulcrum had worn away with age and use.

At first I tried to place the switch back in. I held the piece of plastic up to the hole and pressed. Then I rocked it into the “off” position. The light turned off, but the switch popped back out as soon as I let go of it.

Duct tape holds a lot of things together. I tried using some of it to keep the switch in place. It’s a band-aid solution, to be sure. But it was 9:30 on Sunday and where was I going to get a replacement switch?

After realizing that duct tape wouldn’t be sufficient, I tried thinking of other ways to wedge the switch back in. But I came up with nothing. Wedging it back it wouldn’t have been the safest thing to do, after all. So I called up my landlord. The first number I dialed, someone picked up the phone but it was all static on the other end and I couldn’t make out what the person was saying. I called back and it went straight to voicemail. It was his wife’s cell phone, not his. And she doesn’t deal with landlord duties. I then called his house directly. I got an automated response telling me the line had been disconnected and the number changed. I called the new number (which was in the 613 area code - so he’s moved without telling me) and it was busy.

My landlord had told me that I could also call his son to take care of apartment duties. So I did. And I left a message. By now it was getting closer to 10, and something had to be done. I thought I could just go to Home Depot or Lowes and grab a light switch and do it myself. I called up Adam, who is my partner-in-crime and always willing to help out. The plan was set. We’d go get the switch, then he’d come over and help out replacing it. I know what you might be thinking “two guys to fix a lightswitch?” and you’re right to think that - except I needed someone to help by holding a flashlight and letting me know which breaker was for the kitchen, etc. Plus hey, it’s always fun to do things with a friend.

But before I could leave to go get Adam, my landlord called back. He mumbled on about how I should call his son, and I told him I did. I also asked him why he didn’t tell me he moved and he mentioned something about a fire at his house. I don’t really remember the particulars because I was pre-occupied with the kitchen light being on. The layout of my apartment is such that it would have shone into the bedroom and Leslie and I wouldn’t have been able to sleep. My landlord gave me another number for his son and I called that to see if he’d be able to come over and fix it. After all, I don’t own the place, so why should I have to replace fixtures? Not only that, but I’ve never done any electrical work before save for drawing up schematics for my parent’s basement.

He said he’d be able to fix it this morning - Monday morning. This was obviously not a good enough answer for me because I wanted it fixed sooner. You know, so I could actually sleep. So after a conversation that was back and forth of him giving other times he could fix it - each being later than this morning, I told him forget it. I’ll try to do it. So I left and picked up Adam and headed for a hardware store. But before we got to one, I decided to call Dad to see if he had any extra switches lying around. Turns out he did, so I made a detour and picked one up from him.

Adam and I ended up replacing the switch no problem. But several things came out of this. First - why are there so many different types of screw heads? Flat head screws are the worst, by they way. Especially when they’re tight screws.

When I settled into bed around midnight, I could hear some vacuuming from the unit upstairs from me. Vacuuming at midnight. At first I let it go because we have a white noise machine which drowned most of it out. But by 12:30 it still had not stopped. And there was also a lot of banging of furniture, screeching across laminate flooring, and dropping of hard objects that bounced and rolled. And when you’re trying to sleep and already frustrated that you had to pick up the slack for your landlord, this kind of thing gets to you even more than it normally would. At 12:45 I decided I had had enough. I jumped out of bed, slipped on my shoes, and headed upstairs.

I stood outside the doors of the three units above me, trying to ascertain which unit housed the selfish asshole who thought vacuuming at midnight on a Sunday was acceptable. I banged on a door several times with my fist. It opened up and a man, probably not a whole lot older than me, opened up. He was a little scruffy looking. I asked him if he was vacuuming and banging stuff around. He said he was, but not anymore. I then asked him if he could please not do that so late at night, as I had to wake up at five and the noise was very loud. He said he wouldn’t. I thanked him and headed back home.

I did end up sleeping, but it took me a while to calm down after that “confrontation,” so to speak.

Reay and I were talking last Monday when we met up for lunch and he mentioned that he had a long fuse and could tolerate a lot of bullshit before it went off - but that once it did, it would be very bad. I have to say, I feel a lot like him right now. The fuse is long, but it’s already lit. And when it goes off, the person who triggered it will not be happy with me.

Further to yesterday’s post about censorship and Jack Thompson being whack: A $600m lawsuit blaming the makers of Grand Theft Auto for slayings in New Mexico.

The plaintiffs’ lawyer is non other than whack Jack. This isn’t the only case he’s got going against Rockstar Games. Oddly enough the one mentioned at the end of the article also seeks damages of – you guessed it - $600m. It would be interesting to see where Jack is getting this seemingly arbitrary yet consistent dollar amount from, if not from his own ass.

The main lawsuit discussing in the article pertains to how a 16-year-old shot his father, step-mother, and step-sister. The suit claims that this would not have happened had he never played that video game.

Actually, information obtained elsewhere on the web indicates the child was abused both physically and verbally. But of course, that wouldn’t ever push anyone to commit such a heinous act, would it? Thompson would have us believe Marilyn Manson shot those kids in Columbine, and Rockstar Games murdered this kid’s family.

From the article:

The game trained him “how to point and shoot a gun in a fashion making him an extraordinarily effective killer without teaching him any of the constraints or responsibilities needed to inhibit such a killing capacity,” according to the suit.

Admittedly I have played very little of the Grand Theft Auto franchise. The games just don’t appeal to me. Oh, and I’m afraid they’ll turn me into a murderer who breaks people’s heads with baseball bats (because after playing Mortal Kombat for the first time I went nuts and pulled people’s still-beating hearts out of their chests). I don’t see how holding a video game controller can teach you how to shoot a gun. Not that I have ever shot a gun, but I’m pretty sure you don’t do it by holding the R button while aiming the Left analog stick and tapping the X button.

EDITED TO ADD: Let’s not forget that the game that is being blamed is one rated M, meaning it’s for gamers 18 and up. Parents cried about Mortal Kombat being gory, and shortly thereafter game ratings were introduced. Funny that kids nowadays gravitate towards rated M games. Parents don’t seem to want to take responsibility for what their kids are exposed to.

Do you want a high-speed internet connection that only works one third of the time? Do you like waiting forever for sites to load? Do you like your browser requests timing out for minutes at a time because your net connection is unreliable? Do you like being kicked out of online games because of connectivity issues?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, promptly sign up for Bell Sympatico internet service! It sucks!

Still might be too early to tell, but it appears that beverages and other liquids are now banned from planes. Everytime something like this happens, we all lose. It is a good thing whatever plans that were made by the offending parties did not come to fruition. It’s not a good thing that terrorists are succeeding, however indirectly, in having freedoms we take for granted taken away from us.

This reminds me of a discussion I once had with someone not long ago. I can’t remember the gentleman’s name, but he mentioned that freedom doesn’t actually exist. And, sadly, when you think about it in its truest sense, he was right.

I wonder if there will come a point where all passengers on commercial flights will have to be handcuffed and gagged. It might actually make for better flights, considering there’s always annoying, obnoxious people on planes who never seem to keep quiet.

We live in an interesting time. I sometimes think about whether or not there will be and end to war in my lifetime. Sadly, it’s unlikely considering our civilization’s unfortunate dependence on the exploitation of other societies.

In other news, that game of Centipede is still going. I played it for an hour and half tonight to the point where I now expect spiders to fly in from the right side of my vision and bounce around. It’s almost worse than the time I kept seeing Tetris blocks falling.

Every morning, in order to leave the building I live in, I must first go into the parking garage to get into my car. Both yesterday and today there was a very strong smell of gasoline in the parking garage. Both yesterday and today I’ve had to try to hold my breath all the way from the door to the building to the door of my car. And both yesterday and today I have had breathing problems and burning mucous membranes in my nose and throat because of it.

If I find out who is spilling gasoline in the parking garage, I will kick him in the nuts and shit on his face.

So here’s the scoop. I hate that during the weeknights, I wake up a few times between 3 a.m. and 5 a.m., thinking it’s time to get up. Each time I’ll fall back asleep, only in a really horrible and uncomfortable position. And I know I’m doing it. I fucking know it. But I don’t do anything about it because I’m too tired. Then I’ll wake up 15 minutes later with a dead arm or neck cramps and think, “I should really move and sleep on my back” but do I? Of course not. It doesn’t help things that the dog is a bed hog and always depriving me of valuable sheet and comforter real estate.

I end up waking when the alarm goes at 5:20 a.m., only to snooze it for ten more minutes and then manually set the alarm to 5:40 after that. By that time Willi is ready for her walk and poking her snout in my face to wake me. On the odd occasion she just sits there in front of me, ears down, waiting for me to get out of bed.

I hate waking up so early.

Thanks a lot, world.

Where the fuck are you? Have you done anything at all for Ontario since becoming premier? We haven’t heard anything about you since you broke all your election campaign promises. Are you hiding somewhere?

DO SOMETHING, DAMMIT! THIS I COMMAND!