Lis Wiehl always succeeds in writing interesting thrillers with the "Triple Threat" club. Even when the book itself is weak (such as the previous book, Hand of Fate), the byplay between the characters is always good.
I recently had the pleasure of reading and reviewing the third book in the series, Heart of Ice. This one's a bit different than the others, as one of the viewpoint characters is sociopath Elizabeth Avery. I always find it interesting when we see sociopaths in action (only in books!), because it gives the author a chance to explore the two faces of the character: the one they present to the public, and the truly evil self.
"The "triple threat" team - federal prosecutor Allison Pierce, FBI agent Nicole Hedges, and TV reporter Cassidy Shaw - is up against a menace in their midst. Elizabeth Avery is a beautiful woman with issues. She manipulates everyone around her, causing some to commit crimes and others to lavish her with affection - and one man to kill for her. She befriends Cassidy and worms her way into the trio's lives, trying to set one friend against another in an attempt to keep them away from her dark secre, as she leaves a number of bodies in her wake."
Wiehl has done a lot to win me back as a fan.
This is especially true because I now understand what Wiehl's doing with the characters. I was very critical of the first couple of books because the character arcs seemed to distract from the main story. However, it seems that Wiehl's trying to build strong characters to carry the series along.
That's something I can get behind, even as I disagree with some of Wiehl's choices. I still find Cassidy to be way too vapid for my tastes.
But to each their own!
Check out the review and let me know what you think.
Just wanted to let everybody know that I'm taking a break from the regular music posts. Just a couple of weeks.
I know, I know. I said that missing them would put me off of ever doing them again.
But we're going away for 10 days starting tomorrow, and I just wasn't up to it today. We'll still be gone next Sunday, so that's out too.
I will be back in two weeks, though! To finish up the last three or four episodes.
And then I don't know what the hell I'm going to do.
Y'all haven't been that forthcoming with ideas. :P
I may be posting on the road, so the blog itself won't be taking a break (at least no more so than usual). But these posts take a lot of time, and I just won't have it.
Maybe I'll make up for the humour deficiency by doing a couple of "Disturbed" posts.
Do you have fond memories of those smoky arcades back in the '70s? Where rock music blasted through the overhead speakers, pinball machines were lined up one right next to the other, so close that you were almost holding hands with the guy playing the machine next to you? The thumping sound every time you pressed the flipper button? The "ding ding ding" when your ball kept hitting the bumpers?
Yeah, I don't either.
No, I'm kidding, though by the time I was of the age to go into an arcade like this, I was usually more interested in the video games than the pinball machines.
I played my fair share, though.
Pinball FX2, an Xbox Live downloadable game on the Xbox 360, definitely helps bring that feeling back.
Having caring professionals around at the worst possible times is so important in this life. People who will make what you're going through just a little bit easier, removing some of the burdens from your shoulders.
We want that in our own medical care, but we also want that when it comes to our pets.
For a while now, whenever our rats have needed surgeries (for lumps, or to have them spayed/neutered), we've been taking them to Arbutus West Animal Clinic, on the corner of 16th and McDonald here in Vancouver. They're one of the few vets in Vancouver that deal regularly with rodents.
Another great one is Westwood Heights Pet Hospital in Coquitlam. We used to take them there, but our living in downtown Vancouver made them really inconvenient, especially when the only day they did rat surgeries was Wednesday. Getting off of work for a day in order to take our rats in became an issue. They're definitely good, and we highly recommend them too, if you're out there. But we just can't use them due to the distance and inconvenience. When all of that became an issue, we researched and found Arbutus West. They also have the added benefit of working with some of the small animal rescue organizations in Vancouver, so we already knew that they were good people. They've performed many rat surgeries for us, and our file there is getting quite thick. They pretty much know us by now.
When a rat needs surgery, I can drop him/her off on my way into work and pick him/her up on my way home. It's very easy.
As regular readers know, we had to put our cat down last week. We've been thinking about it for a long while even before this, due to the issues described in that post (I'll let you read it there if you're interested).
While we had been taking our rats to Arbutus for years, we actually had another vet who had been looking after our cat. They didn't do rodents, which is why we found Arbutus, but we didn't want to change our cat's vet.
However, after the 2-3 years of issues discussed in the post mentioned above, we decided it was time to look into what we would need to do to finally put her down when the time came. If the cat worked around our final accommodation and peed on something, making it impossible to live with it anymore, would we be able to take her in and have her put down?
The wife called the vet, explaining the situation and just asking questions.
And she was made to feel like she was evil for even asking about it.
"We won't euthanize pets for the purposes of convenience" the woman bluntly stated (not a direct quote, but basically that). After trying to explain the situation further, the woman grudgingly relented ("I guess you've thought about this") and said she would make a note on the file.
What would happen if we finally made the decision that it was time? Would we have to go in there and be put on the defensive by the vet him/herself, trying to justify our decision? Would we be made to feel like we were this small because we had come to the end of our rope after three years of accommodation? When everything we had tried had stopped working?
We knew we couldn't do that.
So we called Arbutus because they had been so good to our rats. I called and set up an appointment, explaining what had been going on, and said that we just wanted to discuss quality of life issues with the vet. We wanted to lay the groundwork so that there would be no issues when the time came.
Instead of attitude, I got nothing but sympathy and understanding. In fact, I don't even think I used the term "quality of life." The receptionist did after I had explained everything and said that we wanted to bring her in to be looked at. She knew immediately what I was talking about.
They booked us for at least 45 minutes (it may have been 60), because they knew that this kind of conversation would take time and they didn't want to rush us. We saw Dr. Emilia Gordon, a wonderfully caring woman who was just oozing kindness.
We explained everything, giving her a timeline of what had been happening, and our concerns about our upcoming trip and how the cat would handle us being gone (we had scheduled somebody to come in once a day for 30 minutes to check on her). She listened with (and I know I keep using the word, but it's the one that best fits) understanding. She knew that we had done everything we could for her. She didn't condemn us for possibly making this decision out of "convenience." We finally decided that we would board her at Arbutus while we were gone, so that she could be looked after if anything happened, and she would have people around.
That was about three weeks ago. Thursday, I came home and discovered she had fallen ill (details, again, in Saturday's post) and decided that tonight was the night. I called the vet and they immediately said "did you want to bring her in tonight?" even though they would be closing shortly after we got there. She even offered to do the payment over the phone so that we wouldn't have to deal with that when we got there. Since I knew time was of the essence, I didn't want to take the time to do that, but I was very thankful that she even thought of it.
This time, we saw Dr. Burstyn, but he was just as kind as Dr. Gordon had been. They made the process very easy and painless (other than the pain of having to have it done in the first place), giving us all the time we needed to say good-bye.
They are wonderful people. I highly recommend them for any of your pet's medical needs.
(I know this is long, so here's the link again so you don't have to scroll up)
But that's not all of what Jenny and I talk about in Episode 13 of Down the Hall (like our new name?).
We also talk about the problem of Summer learning loss, which is a serious problem. Over the Summer, kids lose a lot of what they learned in school for the past nine months. There are ways that this can be prevented (or at least lessened), and we go over some of those in this episode.
Take a listen and see if you can tell how hoarse I am from being at Game 7 the night before we recorded.
Of course, if you don't want to listen, that's fine. You can ignore the big guy in sunglasses hanging around outside your door, slapping a baseball bat into his hand again and again and again and...well, you get the picture.
Hey, is that my intern from Boston talking to those guys? I wonder what they could be talking about?
Anyway, I like to think that these 20-30 minutes are the best of the year for them and their dads. They get to maintain that special bond that's developed over the years.
It's not like they have much time on any other day.
We all want what's best from our dads, even more so on this very important day. Some of us want our dads to come support us when we join the theater, giving us valuable insight into our performance.
Or how about supporting your bad music? Because that's why we're here, you know.
Welcome to this week's episode of the one-hit wonders of the 2000s. I won't be making the usual "pre-game" jokes and everything, because I already droned on long enough about this stupid "Dad" thing. In this era of conservationism, one must save as many electronic bytes as one can, you know.
We shouldn't be wasting them.
As usual, you can find the list I've taken these from here. Don't jump ahead of me (not that there's much left to jump ahead of), because if you do, Dad will get very angry.
I'm a sucker for interesting animation, so this already is cool.
I think I went through about 10 different thoughts as that video went on, though. Started out seeming like a wonderful tribute to human achievement, and then came crashing down into some chilling indictment of...totalitarianism, I think? Of course, not real totalitarians. It turns out to be an indictment on humanity's ability to create things and yet channel that creative ability into destructive things. It's a very "pro-peace" song in that sense.
It would make its point even better if it didn't have the incredibly violent and sadistic Che Guevara portrayed as a hero in it.
Sorry, getting too serious here. Time for something light.
This is late in the video, but did they just use a shot of him cutting a steak when he says "mistakes we have made"? With the steak shot being right where "mistakes" was said? Wow, is that deep or what?
Or is he saying "steaks that we made," like lamenting the fact that he can't barbecue with his woman anymore? He was talking about drinking earlier, and he's sitting down to a nice (if thin) steak dinner.
It's Saturday, three days after the Canucks lost Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals, and the disappointment still lingers a bit.
But that's not why the NHL is a joke. Or at least that's not when it became obvious to us that it is becoming one. It just reinforced the issue.
The NHL, under Gary Bettman's tenure, has turned into an organization that is destroying our love of the game of hockey.
(Thanks to...well, you can find this picture EVERYWHERE)
The Stanley Cup Finals just showed a spotlight on everything that we're growing to hate about it.
It's becoming a league where thuggery is not only being allowed, but encouraged. Now, I'm not one of those "ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, get fighting out of the game!" type people. I love a good fight between two willing combatants, when one guy comes to the defense of a teammate. I love me a good body check, and even more so a good hip check.
That, along with the goal-scoring, is what hockey is to me.
It's not cheap shots after the whistle, or even during play.
It's not slashing somebody to the point where two of their fingers are broken (like the slash Alex Edler received in Game 6 of the Finals, making him largely ineffective in Game 7). The organized, post-whistle activities were just sickening to see.
But again, this isn't just about the Finals, and it's not a whine-fest about the Canucks losing. This sort of thing has been going on for a while now.
There's the inconsistent standards of officiating, where what a penalty is doesn't just change from game to game, but from period to period. It's gotten to the point where the players don't even know what a penalty is anymore. Is it any wonder that there's an epidemic of diving going on? When somebody gets cross-checked in the back ten times, with no penalty called, I wouldn't blame somebody for thinking they have to dive to make sure the ref sees the play.
It's not just the penalties, but the supplementary discipline as well. There were two horrible hits in the Stanley Cup Finals. First, Aaron Rome knocked Nathan Horton out of the series with a huge open-ice hit that was late. It was a hockey-play gone wrong (it was definitely late and should have been a penalty for that), but it earned him an unprecedented 4-game suspension. Playoff games are widely considered to be worth double a regular season game, so it would have been 8 games.
The reasoning for this was given, among other things, as the lateness of the hit and the severity of the injury. Yet in Game 6, Mason Raymond gets a compressed vertebrae after being crunched into the boards by an extremely late hit. No penalty on the play, and no suspension.
What the hell?
Personally, I don't think either should have been suspended, because they were hockey plays gone wrong. But if you use that reasoning to suspend Rome, you have to be consistent and suspend the Bruin player too.
Suspensions during the regular season have been just as questionable, mostly on the "way too low" side. Somebody gets run into a stanchion and almost breaks his neck, and there's no suspension for it. Vicious slashes and cross-checks to the head get a game or two at most.
The on-ice product has deteriorated markedly since the NHL lock-out supposedly "fixed" things by calling the rulebook as it is. There would be no more hooking and holding to slow the game down. It would be called no matter when it happened.
Over the years, that standard has slowly disappeared. It's not completely gone, and fast teams can still play well in the regular season. But it's now inconsistent. What's called in the 1st period probably won't be called in the 3rd.
These issues have made it a lot less fun to watch hockey.
I'm a Canucks fan through and through. I bleed blue and green. I will never stop supporting the Canucks.
We have season tickets, but we have seriously considered dropping them because of what a gong show the NHL has become. Every year, we have to make that decision to renew, and every year, we come close to saying "no more."
But we keep coming back. Because these are the Canucks. Would dropping them be cutting off our noses to spite our faces? While the Canucks do have to give a cut of the money to the NHL, we would be hurting the Canucks by abandoning them more than we would be hurting the NHL.
The Canucks players, to a man, talk about the wonderful fanbase in this city, and how well they're treated (despite the intense scrutiny that they receive, and the sometimes unwarranted criticism by fans who get on players way too easily). They talk about taking less money to play here because they love the organization and they love us, the fans who support them. How can you turn your back on that?
Our compromise is to never buy any merchandising, as the NHL gets reams of money off of that. We will not be getting NHL Centre Ice this year (NHL Centre Ice is a package for your digital cable TV package where you can watch almost any hockey game that's on, rather than depending on what your local stations are showing). We will not be spending a cent on any kind of merchandise with the NHL logo on it. It's sad that the Canucks can't sell anything without that logo, as we'd love to give our money to the Canucks. But we just can't do it.
The NHL (and the Canucks, admittedly) made a mint during this Stanley Cup run, with Canucks merchandise flying off of the shelves. I wonder how many people who were buying stuff are bandwagon fans, not even caring about any of these issues.
And I wonder if the true fans who continue to buy the products have thought about how much of that money is going to an organization that is running hockey into the ground.
I'm not saying that you shouldn't buy anything. That's a personal decision, because the Canucks (or the other teams, if it's their stuff) are getting a big cut of that as well.
But it's not something that we can support. The Canucks will get our ticket money. Their TV broadcasts will get our viewership (not that we're a Nielsen family anyway). They will get the one Diet Coke that we buy at the game every time we go.
But the NHL will not be getting any of our money directly.
And if we ever discover that Canucks owner Francesco Aquilini voted to keep Gary Bettman in place as Commissioner of the NHL, we might abandon the team as well.
Thursday was a hard day, as we lost a friend who had been with us for 13 years. In fact, she had been with my wife even longer than that.
We had to put Miss Kittycat to sleep, one of the hardest things we've had to do in a long while.
She had been my wife's companion for 5 years when I joined the family. Five years of love, even if it was, at times, cranky love. When I came along, she passed that love on to me as well. She seemed very content to have multiple people around, hardly ever alone unless our schedules dictated that we be gone at the same time. But even when that was the case, she knew that she would soon have at least one of us again. Until that time, it was best just to sleep. She was a small cat, always had been. But to us, she was just the right size. She only looked small when you held her up against another cat. She was easy to pick up, no matter how much she hated that. For years, she tolerated it, but you could tell she didn't want to be held. She was quite unusual in that way. She was definitely not a lap cat.
But that was fine. We took what she gave us and she took what we gave her. Which was treats. She was definitely a treat-hound. In fact, she would work it quite hard at times. She would stand on her little house and just stare at you for a while. It became part of the daily routine. I'd do my morning routine of bathroom stuff: shave, shower, etc. As I moved about our home in the morning, she would stay asleep, or sometimes she would be wandering around. But as soon as I came out of the bathroom after my shower (and only after my shower, not if I came out before), there she was, sitting and staring. "Ok, it's time now," she would probably be saying if she could talk. It's like the sound of the shower going off was her signal.
When I say above that she shared her love with me, it's definitely true. But it wasn't the same as what she gave my wife. My wife was the one who rescued her from the shelter, all those years ago. My wife was her "person," the one who had been with her through thick and thin. In the later years, when we had to shut her out of our bedroom, she would sometimes howl when I was in there. But she would really howl when my wife was. (It wasn't a constant howl, but she would do it in short bursts for a little while before finally giving up and going to sleep) When I sat on the couch, she would come to me for attention, but would head off after a short while. But when my wife sat on the couch, she was relentless.
The last two or three years were hard ones. She developed urinary issues that, it turned out, were behavioral. She would pee on the bed, so we had to shut her out of the bedroom. We think she began suffering from some form of kitty dementia, as her symptoms matched almost perfectly with what was found on the web. Among other things, an obsession with soft things to pee on. It got to the point that we had three litter boxes in the living room and no rugs on the floor, because while the peeing was an issue, we couldn't bring ourselves to put her down. She was too special of a cat, and she was worth adjusting our lives around. She was otherwise healthy, if a bit old and running down. She wasn't as energetic as she used to be, occasionally had trouble jumping up on things that she didn't before.
We wanted her to live out her natural life, and if it inconvenienced us a little bit, so what?
Sadly, Thursday night I came home from work (ironically having just bought two bags of cat litter) and discovered that she was having trouble walking. One of her back legs was, while not paralyzed, extremely weak. Every step she took, she would collapse a little bit. She couldn't jump at all anymore (though she did try once). She retreated to her little house and lay in there for a little bit. I put some treats in front of her, which she quickly gobbled up, and then called my wife. When she called me back, we discussed things and I called the vet.
It was 4:50pm, and the vet's office closed at 6:00. We had gone in a couple of weeks ago to have the cat looked at and discuss quality of life issues. I explained who I was and what I had come home to, and their first words after I finished were "did you want to bring her in tonight?"
Before I go any further, I just want to say how wonderful the people at Arbutus West Animal Clinic, on 16th & McDonald here in Vancouver, are. I'm going to do a separate post on them next week, because they deserve a post of their own, but they are awesome. They knew that taking us that night would have them there after they closed, but they didn't care. All of the people there were so kind to us, throughout everything.
I hustled the cat into her carrier, and the fact that she barely resisted and only let a few howls out just reinforced that we were making the right decision. I picked my wife up and we drove to the vet.
Thirty minutes later, it was over. We'd been with her the entire way. It was hard to say good-bye, but it was for the best. Every day for the last three years, we had kept re-evaluating our decision to keep her around . Every time, the decision was the same: yes, she's worth it, no matter how many accommodations we had to make.
She took that decision out of our hands finally.
It's very quiet around here now. No more howling. We don't have the bedroom door closed any more. There are no more litter boxes in the living room. We're not constantly stepping on pieces of litter that she took with her when she stepped out of the box. A couple of days later, I'm still looking for her when I walk out of the bedroom.
That will pass, in time. I know it will.
Thank you for the many years of companionship, Miss Kittycat. And thank you for taking care of my wife until I came along.
Let's get the easy part out of the way first. The Vancouver Canucks lost Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals to the Boston Bruins. It was a vicious series, full of cheap shots, hard hits, and play unbecoming of a sports league. But with the joke the NHL has become, I guess that shouldn't be too surprising.
But I'm proud of the Canucks. They played hard for two months, but just did not have enough gas for this final game. It looked like they were operating on fumes.
I'm not proud of what this city became last night. We were at the game, and stayed just long enough to give Gary Bettman, Commissioner of the NHL and all around asshole, a healthy boo as he emerged to present the Stanley Cup to the Bruins. Bettman is widely hated among hockey fans, so even if the Canucks had won, he would have been booed, before we went back to cheering our team for their accomplishment.
We left as soon as we finished the booing, and headed out. Many people had stayed to see the whole ceremony, so while the street outside Rogers Arena was crowded, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been after Friday night's game.
After thinking about actually walking up Dunsmuir Street and through the crowd, we decided that it would probably be a lot better if we took a right turn, walked down to Pender street, and caught a bus instead. This would skirt around the majority of the crowd.
As we were walking toward Pender, we looked back toward the center of the city.
And we saw the first plume of smoke.
"I hope that's a bonfire," I said hopefully, though I knew it wasn't.
As we were waiting for the bus, I checked Twitter (the only way to get news nowadays) and saw reports of the first of what would be many burning cars on this night.
Vancouver had turned into a nightmare.
Multiple cars were overturned and set on fire. Newspaper boxes were thrown through storefront windows. Millions of dollars in damage occurred.
They say history repeats itself. It's such a cliche, yet cliches become that way because they're often true.
I wasn't here in 1994, when the Canucks lost in Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals to the hated New York Rangers. That game was on the road, but there were still riots in the city. People still talk about the riots of '94.
They may not do that anymore.
Because we surpassed them.
As we were sitting at home after our (thankfully) uneventful bus ride home, watching the news (CTV did a remarkable job covering this), our hearts continued to break.
But as the coverage continued, I started thinking about other things as well. They continued to talk about how people were refusing to disperse, and I noticed how many people weren't necessarily contributing to the violence, but were instead taking cell phone pictures, an almost narcissistic way of saying "I was there when it all happened. See? Here's me in front of a burning car!"
News outlets, both television and newspaper, were constantly saying "are you down there? Send us your footage! Send us your pictures!" But doesn't that go against the urging, by the media and especially by the police, to "get out of the downtown core"?
In this age of Twitter, Facebook, and other outlets, how much of what happened last night was exacerbated by social media, that need for somebody to be "famous," if only to their friends?
The violence would have started regardless of social media, so I'm certainly not blaming it for what happened. These drunken louts, these anarchists who revel in destruction and were just looking for a way to do it, they would have rioted no matter what had happened. Even if the Canucks had won.
But did social media, or the desire to show off to friends what they saw, via camera phones, did that keep people down there when the otherwise sane people might have left?
That's a societal question that we may never be able to answer.
But I think it is something that authorities have to think about and deal with in the future.
On the good side, though, social media may help bring these idiots to justice, even more than happened in 1994.
People were taking pictures. They were taking videos. And Vancouver police have asked these people to share their pictures with them. And I'm sure there are thousands of them.
A Facebook group has been created for people to upload their photos to, with requests that if somebody knows a person in the picture, to tag them in it.
Of course, some people make it easier than others.
(Thanks to Graeme McRanor, click on image to make it larger and readable)
And some people, last night, have poetic justice inflicted on them.
(Hopefully that won't be taken down, but Youtube took down another version of it, so it will probably disappear shortly)
I am saddened by what happened last night. Even more sadly, I'm not shocked.
The Vancouver Olympics were an example of this city in all its glory. Huge crowds of people milling around, but happy and celebrating. Even if Canada had lost the hockey gold medal game, they would have just been out having fun. It was a 2-week party.
And while malcontents are always around, the police dealt with them quickly and efficiently, and quietly.
The individual officers did a wonderful job, but I have to question the plan that was put in place for this. It obviously didn't work.
Last night was an example of this city at its worst. These anarchists (and that's all I can call them, as they certainly aren't "fans") have given this city another black mark on its reputation, replacing the one from 1994 that the Olympics had overcome.
This city is now known again as a city of hooligans.
And it pisses me off. Because I know the beauty of this city. I know how wonderful it can be.
Last night was an aberration, but unfortunately it's an aberration that the entire world saw.
And it took note.
Today, clean-up begins. A Facebook group already has over 12,000 people signed up to come downtown and help.
It's a start.
But sadly, that won't be as widely publicized.
Because if it bleeds, it leads.
And the good stories never get told. Not in this media age.
To all of you out there: Vancouver is a great place.
Don't let last night be your image of our fine city.
Regular readers of this blog know that I'm an avid gamer. I'm also looking for an avenue to write about games. Since most of you actually aren't gamers, the posts that I did here about games went over like a hot babe at a Gay Men's convention: total indifference.
I've been writing over at Game Informer, but the (admittedly, extremely remote) possibility of getting free games to review has made me cast my net out a bit wider. I even set up my own video game blog.
Of course, I wasn't writing enough to keep that alive, so I jumped at the possible opportunity to write for somebody else's blog.
However, there's a new site that's trying to get going, and they're looking for new writers. It's called Video Game Fever, and Ronald, one of the main guys behind it (there are two, I believe) contacted me about the possibility of writing for them. After some great back and forth conversation where we hashed out what we both wanted to get out of it, I'm now writing some stuff for them. Mainly reviews, as it is also a news site, and I don't think I can keep up with the news. I may write some opinion pieces too. We'll see.
Anyway, my first post went up last night!
It's a review of the new game, L.A. Noire. An awesome, but flawed game about crime in Los Angeles in 1947.
The lights are off, except the one over the stove. The darkness outside is starting to descend, but there's still a bit of light coming through the sliding glass door. It's almost 9:30 at night and it's not pitch black. Summer is still approaching, just nine days away.
Light from the TV also shines over me, not to mention the computer monitor, its brightness bathing me with whiteness. Roxanne is on right now, but the sound is muted. I need silence, or soft music, when I write. I look up briefly and see a really young Daryl Hannah. Hard to believe this movie is more than 20 years old.
I've got a glass of chocolate milk sitting here beside me, fuel for the physical body. I've just read and commented on a few blogs, tweeted a few tweets, and kept up with the work of many of my friends. Fuel for the blogging soul.
Yet still, I sit here and think. My fingers go silent for a few moments. There's an Empire carpet commercial on now.
And I have no idea what I want to write. No words are really crossing through my brain at the moment. Did I use them all up this morning? And then those nagging feelings of self-doubt present themselves as well. I enjoy writing, but I always find it difficult. It's the getting started part that is always my enemy. I find that, once I get on a roll, the words just kind of flow out. Sometimes in a seemingly random manner, though usually I'm able to corral them in some way. Sort of like this post, though the stream of consciousness is a bit harder to bring together.
Every once in a while, the doubt intensifies. Weeks like this past week, where I'm not able to post anything. Part of that was time, but if you have the inspiration, you'll always find the time. I just didn't have it this week. I'm always sad when I do a one-hit wonders post, and I realize that the last post on this blog was last week's one-hit wonders post. That's not very conducive to keeping readership, and it's certainly not good for my regular readers.
Sometimes, it's the one-hit wonders posts that keep me going. There has been many a Sunday morning when I've sat here goofing off, thinking that the last thing I want to do is try and be funny. I have no idea what to say.
But every time that thought crosses my mind, I eventually wave it off. I force myself to start. Because I know that if I give in on my one bit of regularity, there will be no going back. Once I stop once (unless there's a good reason, like no Internet or I'm sick, of course), it will be way too easy to say "I won't do one this week either." And it will fall by the wayside.
It's the darkness where the doubts congregate. But it's not the lack of light where they breed. It's the darkness of the mind.
But I refuse to let them stop me. I've got 630 posts on this blog. I've been doing it for two years this coming July, and I don't plan on that coming to an end anytime soon.
Just have to nip those doubts in the bud, and actually sit down and write.
Which is always the best advice, whether it's about writing or anything else.
It's hard to believe, but we're starting to wind down the decade here at One Hit Wonder Inc. There are only six more episodes left before we get to the end of the decade!
Anyway, while I'm thinking, I'm going to throw it out to you, dear reader (and not so dear readers, but not to those of you who hate me because I'm beautiful).
What would you like to see in a weekly music show? Nothing before the 80s, as there have to be videos or something I can post on here. There also has to be a site or list somewhere that I can take them from. In other words, I can't do the Top 10 hits of Joe Pesci or anything like that.
(Warning: Language)
So get your thinking caps on! We've got 6 weeks (maybe 7, as I may take a one-week break) before I need to do something!
Or I can just let the whole thing go.
Ok, ok!!! I will come up with something.
I don't want the world to fall into chaos.
Anyway, on to this week's episode! We're entering 2008, and frankly, I'm scared. I'm scared that we're going to be overcome by crap rap. But I shall move forward courageously!!!
As usual, you can find the list I'm taking these from here.
I *love* this song. I first saw Duffy in a concert broadcast on HDNet, and thought she was really good. But this song is the one that really grabbed me. I only learned later (like, today), that this was her only hit over in the US. It certainly doesn't surprise me that the song was popular.
On the other hand, the song title does lend itself to a couple of jokes. I'm really begging for mercy from those guys who are trying to dance in the video. I'm looking really closely, but I can't see the strings. But somebody has to be controlling them from above.
And they're begging Duffy for mercy from the punishment for bad dancing! I know I'm a hard boss on my interns, but setting them on fire? The worst I do is lock them in a room with Gilbert Godfried.
These one-hit wonders posts are humming along like clockwork, aren't they? Sometimes, they almost write themselves.
In fact, I just might do that this week, as I'm extremely tired after all of the Canucks hoopla. Just let me get the AI (Artificial Intelligence) booted up.
There we go. He's just going to help me out a little bit here, when I'm at a loss for words (HA! Like that ever happens).
There may be a few bugs in the system, but the analysts say that he should be good to go today. I hope so, as I'm all alone here in the building. All of the interns are out having a party.
Obviously, I do not include a fashion expert on staff.
Or do I?
Maybe I do pay them too well.
Anyway, it's time for this week's one-hit wonders of the 2000s post! That hive of hilarity, that jug of jocularity, and that nattering nabob of negativity.
Cool beans! Somebody wants to give me a portion of the $100 million that he smuggled out of his war-torn country. Let me just call up my bank information before I continue.
There we go. All settled.
What? Yeah, we named the AI we're using HAL.
What could go wrong?
As usual, you can find the list I'm taking these from here.
Here we go! 1) Aly & AJ: "Potential Breakup Song" (#17) (August 4, 2007)
Woo!!! Tinkly piano! It's already better than last week.
Good lord! About a minute in, those are some of the spookiest eyes I've ever seen. Was that supposed to be in there? Or does it just come naturally to Elliot?
Anyway, the combination of a pretty song and his ruggedly handsome good looks probably has this situation happening quite a bit.
Still, while after I'm done listening to the song, I'm thinking "God, that was crappy," I can't help tapping my foot and shaking my booty while it's going on.
Now, I have to disconnect this annoying AI. Sorry, HAL. It's just not working out. You're too annoying and there can only be one annoying presence on this blog.
I recently had the pleasure of reading and reviewing the third book in the series, Heart of Ice
. This one's a bit different than the others, as one of the viewpoint characters is sociopath Elizabeth Avery. I always find it interesting when we see sociopaths in action (only in books!), because it gives the author a chance to explore the two faces of the character: the one they present to the public, and the truly evil self.
is on right now, but the sound is muted. I need silence, or soft music, when I write. I look up briefly and see a really young Daryl Hannah. Hard to believe this movie is more than 20 years old.
