Raining cats and dogs, but not money

We took all 3 of our cats to the vets yesterday for summary poking, prodding and shots. If you think a cat is incapable of facial expression, just watch one while a vet is grabbing at the former home of their genitals.

Anyway $528 later almost all is fine (our already slim Calico is down a few pounds from a year ago, which is cause for concern).

I love these animals like family, but MAN vets ain’t cheap. The last time we were in they discovered one of our cats had chipped a tooth and offered to remove it – for $800. I wouldn’t pay $800 to have MY OWN tooth removed, it’s neither life-threatening nor discomforting.

At any rate we have a great vet, she truly loves animals, but the costs make a great case for pet health insurance.

Car buyin'

I bought a new car yesterday (wheeeeeee!!!!), a Honda Fit, which is a slightly smaller version of a Toyota Matrix. Due to seats that literally fold inside-out this thing has a HUGE amount of interior space (eg I can fit 2 adult bicycles behind the front seats and still have room for stuff in the back). It’s no candidate for the Grand Prix, but it handles nicely and is REALLY good on gas. (sidebar: if we’re to be more enviro-conscious, which I am, why are hybrids so prohibitively expensive???)

At any rate my point is that in the 6 years since I’ve purchased a new car, a period during which consumers have become more educated as to the inner workings of the auto retail industry and it’s elaborate if not sometimes deceptive pricing tactics, why do car dealers STILL not get it?

As I always do I researched the Fit and it’s various trim lines and retail pricing in advance. I knew I wanted it, all I had to do was test drive it and do the paperwork. However, as I always do, I went in and played dumb so that the salesperson would have to do his/her job. Hey, if I’m handing over that much money someone’s gonna have to work for it.

When I showed up at the dealership the “wheel of salespeople” dealt me a younger guy we’ll call X, an affable sort with too much energy and the ability to talk out of both sides of his mouth while appearing to speak from the middle. X was old-school in a younger incarnation. He enthusiastically showed me the car inside and out (which I appreciated), took me out for a test drive (which is why I was there) and then started in with the numbers mind game (which I despise).

I’ll spare you the details but here are the highlights;

Him Trade in?
Me Yes?
Him WOW, I wish MY car was this clean, how much do you want for it?
Me Make me an offer.
Him (suddenly cautious) Oooo, lots of miles, and some dents and scrapes, gonna cost us a lot to fix it up and re-sell it
Me (thought balloon: “I don’t really give a f**k”, do you want it or not”)
Me (silence)
Him Let me see what we can do for you (disappears)

The disappearing act is the car salespersons greatest weapon, because it interrupts the buyers momentum and causes them to think up defense strategies for situations that don’t yet exist ie it creates confusion in the buyers mind.

The trade-in was actually what I expected I’d get, and the price (with the generous Honda fuel-efficiency cash-back incentive) was better than I thought, but who am I to leave a good thing be.

Me That looks good, can you throw in some accessories?

Him (slightly indignant) You know, with this cash-back incentive on a car that’s priced this low to begin with, when people ask us to throw in accessories we usually show them the door.

Me (thought balloon: guess what pal? With that single statement you’ve just guaranteed that I will never ever buy a car from you again)

Me (silence)

Him The dealership only makes a 900 dollar profit on these cars.

Me (silence)

Him What accessories do you want?

Me Just a hood deflector.

Him I’ll ask my Sales Manager (disappears)

Remember the “man behind the curtain” in the Wizard Of Oz? That’s the Sales
Manager.

Him (returning) Congratulations John, you’ve got yourself a deal. (quietly as an aside) They wanted you to split the cost of the hood deflector but I told them to take a hike.

My hero.

Then it was off to see the Office Manager. I’ve purchased enough cars to know
that her job was to sell me extras that I don’t need. She enthusiastically offered
me a anti-corrosion package ($1,300) and an extended warranty ($1,200). I
declined and we were no longer friends.

I’ve gone on at length but here’s how this 2 hour process SHOULD have gone;

Me I want the car

Him Here’s how much, and we’ll give you this much for your trade-in

Me Sounds good

Him Do you want corrosion protection or an extended warranty?

Me No, thanks. Here’s a cheque.

Him Sign here, congratulations, here’s your new car.

Me Thanks.

In the end I got what I wanted, a new car at a great price, and a little value-added. But did it have to be so painful, doctor?

You're soaking in it...

Most people recognize this as the symbol for “danger: corrosive materials”. What most don’t know is that I was the hand model for this symbol – or at least I could pass for that now, having spent the weekend with my hands immersed in liquid cleaners displaying this symbol.

Was I wearing rubber gloves? HA! Rubber gloves are for wusses and proctologists (sidebar: why would anyone WANT to be a proctologist??? Failed med school? Here, put on these gloves and this noseclip. Actually I wonder how many proctologists close their eyes when they’re doing an exam? It’s not like you’d know, laying prone on those crinkly paper sheets, hoping for a quick end, pardon the pun).

Anyway I probably should heed those well-intentioned warning labels, cuz now my right hand looks “The Scale”, who would have easily made the cut had “The Fantastic 4” loosened their entrance requirements to become “The Flawed 5”.

For the benefit of folks like me who neither pay attention to labels or read operating manuals (ohhhh, I plug it in FIRST, nowwwww I understand) I propose a more aggressive approach to these labels. From this point on the label for corrosive materials should feature a skeletal hand followed by a couple copulating followed by a duncecap, the message being “danger: corrosive materials, you f**king idiot”. The symbol for “danger: explosive materials” should be followed by a graphic representation of an sphincter (danger: explosive materials, asshole); and the sign for “radioactive materials” should be followed by this;

R – lamb – copulating couple – cashews-?-running stick figure-satan

(are you f**king nuts – run like hell)

Btw I’m fine with the signs they put on cigarette packs, I get it.

Zune?

Wow, that Microsoft Zune multimedia player thingy just took off, huh?

Has anyone ever actually seen one of these things live and in person?

One for the time capsule, Mistah Gates...

My 5

I’m not a fan of the “My 5” tv spots. Sure, nice phone feature I guess, but maddeningly inane commercials that rate REALLY high on the “whogivesafuckometer”.

That said, in keeping with the concept, here’s a hypothetical list of “My 5”s that I’D have if I were using something more sophisticated than the Tonka Toys “Fake-a-call” phone that I have.

“My 5” Christian Deities
Father
Son
Holy Ghost
With room left over for 2 apostles


“My 5” Deceased New York Punk Rockers
Joey Ramone (cancer)
Johnny Ramone (cancer)
Dee Dee Ramone (drugs)
Johnny Thunders (drugs)
Arthur “Killer” Kane (cancer)
*trivia note: there are enough dead guys between these 2 bands to make up an entire OTHER band


“My 5” Degenerate Ball Players
Darryl Strawberry (coke head)
Bill “The Spaceman” Lee (acid head)
Ty Cobb (racist asshole)
Pete Rose (gambling junkie – although he still belongs in the Hall of Fame)
Barry Bonds (arrogant dickweed)


“My 5” Social Misfits
Vlad The Impaler
Rasputin
G.W. Bush
Pol Pot
Jenna Hammyhocks, former star of little known Canadian television series “The Littlest Blow ‘ho”


“My 5” Rock stars who died by “misadventure”
Jimi Hendrix (choked on his own vomit)
Cass Elliot (chocked on a sandwich)
“Electric” Les Harvey (electrocuted on stage)
Mark Bolan (parked his Austin Mini in a tree)
Maurice Gibb (weird twisted intestinal thing - ugh)


“My 5” Jazz Musicians Who Died of a Drug Overdose
Mmm, might need a “My 500” for this one…


“My 5” honest Members of Provincial Parliament






“My 5” Crackers
Triscuit
Ritz
Wheat Thins
Kid Rock
Saltine


“My 5” tools
Robertson screwdriver
Ratchet wrench
Nutdriver
Ball Buster (I made this up)
Alcohol

Yup, HER

I usually give people the benefit of the doubt, for better or for worse. For that reason I’m inclined to believe Paris Hilton when she says that incarceration has changed her, and that she will now commit herself to helping those who need it.

Is this a ploy? It doesn’t matter, the judge who sent her back to the big house was resolute in his sentencing. True, for every four days she behaves like a model prisoner she’ll have a day knocked off her sentence, but that’s true of all L.A. County inmates.

Like the rest of you I don’t know Paris Hilton personally, and I have no interest whatsoever in her lifestyle, her celebrity, or the “cult of personality” of which she is reigning princess. But if someone with the ways and means sincerely offers to make the world a better place then what the hell, why not.

Unfortunately if she chooses to visit the starving and AIDS-stricken in Africa it will become a media circus, and she will draw untold numbers of detractors who will volley forth the battle cry “she’s just another rich kid looking for a photo op”. Well folks, would you prefer we send POOR people to Africa to help out? Africa has enough of their own, thanks.

I admire people who have the power to affect change and go about it in a truly sincere manner, without the need for publicity. I don’t know if he still does it but years ago Bruce Springsteen, the “Father Theresa” of rock and roll, used to quietly show up at the local food bank and help unload trucks – whereas Bono needs a tv crew and a fanfare, and expects world leaders to drop what they’re doing because he is IMPORTANT. Bono, the CAUSES are important, you're just kind of a dork.

In the end it’s about doing things for the right reasons. Paris, this is your chance to make a real change – good luck.

Intel shmintel

I don’t get the new Intel Core 2 Duo tv commercials, the ones featuring young beautiful people dancing around and multiplying themselves. Oh, I understand the metaphor – Intel Core 2 Duo allows you to run several applications at once, therefore you can “multiply” your efforts, effectively “cloning” yourself – but these tv spots don’t make me want to buy the product, and I think the the aim of advertising is to make me want to buy something.

By comparison the Mac tv spots DO make me want to buy their products. Mind you I’m EXTREMELY biased since I’ve been using Mac products since 1993, but that aside these spots cleverly illustrate the benefits of Mac over PC computers.

Both the Mac and the Intel commercials work very hard at exploiting a visual medium without resorting to the tedium of description. However the Mac spots succeed by presenting a 30 second one act comedic play, the moral of which is that Mac is the uncomplicated, uncompromising choice; whereas the Intel spots fail because they rely on interpretive dance to deliver a message about an advanced computer processor. Seriously, am I going to buy anything based on interpretive dance, other than interpretive dance lessons or perhaps ballet tickets? D-is-co-nn-ec-t.

In the end it’s about relating – if I can’t relate I won’t buy.

Apocalypto

Last night we watched Mel Gibson’s latest production “Apocalypto”. I have some major misgivings about this film. Its saving grace is the stunning cinematography and the set design. However this doesn’t make up for it’s myopic view of the Mayan race.

In the film’s early sequences we get a Spielberg-like treatment of a day in the life of Mayan tribesmen and their families. This includes mucho practical joking followed by feasting and then a campfire life-lesson from a tribal leader. Truthfully the sage parable was the only meaningful thing I took away from this film.

The rest of the film is an extended cliché, a car chase without the cars. At daybreak vicious Mayan warriors from another tribe raid the village. They kill, they rape, they pillage, they burn, they capture. Their leader is strong but pragmatic. One captor is a sadistic prick. Our hero sees his friends die, our hero gets mad, our hero overcomes his fears, escapes his captors, inventively kills off his pursuers, and in profound fashion discovers that there is an even larger threat to his family and his race.

Mel, it’s all in the history books. You’ve focused your efforts on the savage in fighting that partially contributed to the destruction of the Mayan race of that period (the Mayan race still exists today). What you’ve completely neglected is their innovative contributions to modern day society, instead reducing the Mayan tribes to ignorant, superstitious brutes.

(If you’re interested in their contributions and extensively developed civilization check out…)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maya_civilization

Or is this a metaphor for America, or perhaps all of mankind, Mel? That we’ll self-destruct if we don’t start getting along with each other? Mel? MEL???

Too bad, this could have been a great film.

Pan's Labyrinth

Last night we watched Pan’s Labyrinth, a movie I’d wanted to see for quite some time.

What an incredibly beautiful view of life and the afterlife, the dichotomies of heaven and hell, paganism (earth as life giver), and the consequences of blind acceptance vs. the rewards of moral fortitude.

No such thing as good ole days

This is not a reminiscence or a “those were the good old days” thing, but there used to be some really cool stations on the radio landscape. The first time I ever traveled to Los Angeles (1989, I think) I tuned in the world famous KROQ, and although the music was similar to what my own station played (102.1 CFNY “the spirit of radio”) there was a clever sense of irreverence and self-deprecation in the station’s promos and ID’s. These were all written and produced by a genius of a guy named John Frost.

Another L.A. station that was just plain fun was KNAC. KNAC was a 24/7 heavy metal station. One morning they played Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” at 8AM. I was impressed. KNAC went dark a few years ago, now they’re just a web stream.

And of course KPIG in Santa Cruz, which was a tie-dyed in the wool hippie station. The day I was listening was the day Brent Mydland, keyboard player for the Grateful Dead, died – so needless to say it was nothing but Grateful Dead music that day.

These kinds of stations as they were could never exist today, and I don’t say that with any sense of bitterness. Everything has a time and a purpose in it’s time. Things are SUPPOSED to change, if they didn’t we’d lack social context, there’d be no watermark for progress or the lack thereof.

When I worked at CFNY it was a magical place at a magical time. I will always consider myself really fortunate to have shared that experience with some really special people, but much the same as people grow up and move on, special times and places in our lives are not meant to last, except in our memories, and there will always be new ones to add to this great, long and hugely interesting trip.

Check this ride, cowboy

These are pictures of a car that belonged to country legend Webb Pierce. Pimp THAT, my friends…

Cats

I love cats. Cats are reasonably independent. Some people find this off-putting. Personally I like an animal that knows it needs me, but is too cool to show it. Cats are very clean, in fact they’re self-cleaning. Cats will shit in a box AND cover it up. Cats, although they speak only one language, have any number of dialects. They’re personalities differ from cat to cat, and some are just plain nuts. Cats have a social order. Cats can fall asleep in the midst of a horrible racket. Cats are endearingly curious. Some cats purr, some don’t, some run around until they crash, some just stare at you and occasionally blink.

This is not to say I don’t love all animals, I’m just partial to cats.

Except for the longhaired ones that they hire to sell toilet paper, those I’d just as soon wipe my ass with.