In "The Scariest Street Gang Ever"

Why do I have this sinking feeling that I've somehow managed to calibrate my monitor's gamma scale horribly inaccurately ?

In "Go Ahead, Rationalize. Monkeys Do It, Too."

Perhaps I'm missing something, but it seems to me that the amnesiacs experiment wasn't much evidence either. Art appreciation is pretty subjectitive. The fact that they disliked the same painting twice merely shows that they actually disliked the painting.

In "Who you gonna call?"

Dude, what's up with their pictures? Precisely my take as well. Why do I suspect that this is just an elaborate front for some weird S&M dungeon they have in their condo? Rated "H" for hilarious.

In "Worst mayor, EVAR!!!11ONE!"

That whole teenage delinquent boys emphasis does seem just a tad suspicious. His intervention in their legal difficulties, and (probably illegal) circumvention of the justice process makes Michael Jackson's past behaviour seem positively benign.

In "Condom Testers Wanted: Apply Inside."

Pepsi goo.

In "Dr Crippen"

Why do you care if Hank cares if Fes cares, Rush?

In "The Pedal-to-the-Metal, Totally Illegal, Cross-Country Sprint for Glory"

In the end, Roy never attempted the 25-minute Manhattan Rendez-vous. But he claims to have raced a 27-minute "practice run." He proudly estimates that he hit top speeds of 144 mph while committing 151 moving violations — enough to have his New York driver's license suspended 78 times over. And afterward, Roy says, "I never felt better." He had missed his goal, but found his identity. Roy wanted to be known as an outlaw driver. Running red-lights? 144 in traffic? BRAGGING about it? There are plenty of extreme sports outlets available to adrenaline junkies that don't endanger others not so inclined. I know, I'm one of them. I'm a gravity freak. I get my kicks from such outdoor pursuits as mountain biking, windsurfing, water, and snow skiing. But I have piston-head friends, and they do it on a track, or off-road. The public roads are dangerous enough without morons like him assuming they're above the law. He's a rich spoiled, self-involved asshole. If he started spewing his cack at me in some bar, he'd get his frikken lights punched out.

In "Catnapped!"

Great. Like that critter wasn't dangerous enough, without giving it a frikken grenade to play with.

In "Dr Crippen"

I find this chilling but fascinating, Hank. Wrongful convictions probably occur far more often than most people realize, and stories like this are a powerful argument against capital punishment. Great post. Thanks .

In "Trick or Treat! and Stuff Yourself Sick:"

Last year, after years of living in neighbourhoods with no children, I was really looking forward to a horde of the little munchkins in my new neighbourhood.I like to give out those little chocolate bars too, and I probably had $50 worth of the things. But I still wasn't prepared for the onslaught, and had to whip out to the Safeway to restock. There wasn't much left, but I picked up a giant bag of Werthers'Original butterscotch candies from the bulk bins for less than $10, Captain. As to this peanuts issue, it had never occurred to me to worry about it. Call me crazy, but it seems to me that if your child has food allergies it might not be a good idea to let them go door to door accepting candy from strangers.

In "Catnapped!"

Admittedly, 25 miles is a bit of a distance; but you it's surprising how resourceful cats and other animals can be in getting around.

Cats are weird. When my ex moved out, she took a whole bunch of stuff that really didn't belong to her, but she left her cat behind. ( won't bore you with the sordid story) Anywaze, this animal was the most paranoid pet I'd ever seen. He wouldn't let me anywhere near him for the entire six years that the three of us had lived together. After she was gone, he was still really spooked, but gradually allowed me to pet him occasionally. But he wouldn't let any visitors touch him , and would run and hide from strangers. He was a bit of a shit-disturber though. After my neighbour got a dog, I caught him teasing the poor thing through the fence one day, rubbing up against it and then calmly watching the dog throwing himself against the fence. I then moved to a new neighbourhood , and his entire personality immediately changed. Imagine my surprise when I came home from work one day after we'd lived there for a week or so to find a complete stranger petting him on the front walk in front of my house. When I expressed my wonderment, she assured me that he was the star of the neighbourhood, and that he regularly visited at least two houses that she knew of! Sure enough, that weekend I was pedaling past a neighbour's in the next block house on my bike, and spotted the little bugger calmly chowing down on a bowl of cat food on the neighbour's deck. Over the next couple of years I watched in amazement as he would go up and greet complete strangers passing by, and the neighbouhood kids would stop by for their ritual visit with Sugar Bear. I think have a picture of him in a poppy field next to the old house somewhere online; I think I'll ll see if I can't find it. He passed away last spring, but I haven't had the heart to try to replace him.

In "The real Raymond Carver."

At what point does the editing process transcend the artist's vision? How collaborative is the writing process? How much credit are editors really due? In film, the editing is recognized as quintessential to the end result. In literature, can an editor really redeem the prose of an otherwise mediocre writer? Can the "voice" of any artist be manufactured? How much does pure blind luck play into all of this? Have we been denied a prodigious talent, due to inept editing? Amazing food for thought. Thanks for finding this.

In "Sweet Land of Liberty"

Hmmm ... edit much, Ralph? ~ As a Canadian, I find your blanket condemnation of Americans a tad disturbing.~ Redacting that single word changes the entire tone of the post. Not sure what you're on about, but next time you wanna quote me to further some obscure agenda, at least have the courtesy to use the whole frikken thing.

As a Canadian, I find your blanket condemnation of Americans a tad disturbing, Hank. Your characterization of Americans as "the most cowardly race on the planet" is pretty hyperbolic. Certainly there are areas of that culture worthy of criticism, but this is probably true of every social system yet devised. For example, I'd say that the determination of a whole group of countries in the Middle East to eradicate the state of Israel, and murder all its citizens, is pretty frikken cowardly. The planet is rife with examples of cowardly behaviours, while the recent unpleasantness in Serbia/Croatia demonstrates that vile undertakings, motivated by mindless fear, are by no means restricted to the Third World.

In "For Some, a Little Raison D'Etre"

Comment poignante. Merci de détachement, meredithea.

In "Trapped Part 1 - The White Rabbit"

It's stupidly simple people!

In "Gone to join circus"

Back in the day before the North Shore was world-recognized, and three foot drops were considered "sick"; well before "extreme" had trickled down to mass markets, some freinds had a bike shop on Tenth Avenue, just before the UBC gates. One day Chris showed up with his pal for the regular shop Sunday ride on his stock unicyle. He said he'd seen some videos of our secret trails, and wanted to try a bit of "off-road". We explained to him that the trails we rode were nothing like the ones in the forest of the UBC Endowment Lands, where he was studying geology, but he was game, so we took him along. We expected that he'd bail at the first stunt, but he ripped it, pointing out that he had an advantage over us, in that he always knew exactly where his center of gravity was. This was before the advent of Mammoth Rims, and 3.0 Gazzalodi tires. His first three downhill rides were with NO BRAKE or suspension. After almost losing his manhood a couple of times, we rigged up a shim-set from a beer can, and used an Allsop suspension-stem that we hacksawed off and welded a saddle to as the first crude attempt at providing some suspension. Chris went on to parlay his incredible balance and coordination into a full-time NORCO sponsorship, but those early days were completely trial and error. No one had ever done it before. The guy is unbelievably humble and helpful. You should see the looks on the kids faces when he pops out of a trail somewhwere in the backcountry on his unicyle, and shows them how to balance on one. I always liked the pun in his first real breakthrough video, One Tired Guy .

In "Catapult Boy Learns The Hard Way"

To those whining that Boys will Boys, please spare us your rationalizations. Kinnakeet has it exactly right. He was torturing an animal he thought he was superior to, and was trying to inflict pain on it with a "catapult". He was a nasty little bugger, it's part of the human condition, and one of our least admirable traits. Wanton sadistic behaviour is dangerous, and carries no survival advantage. In fact, attracting predators, or any unwanted attention, is distinctly disadvantageous for most primates. Thus, this unproductive and potentially dangerous gene-set was removed from the gene pool; and this is, in fact, precisely how evolution works.

Cripes. There I was, all excited to learn about the adventures of a catapult boy, but it turns out to be just another idiot so frikken stupid it beggars belief. This is precisely how evolution is supposed to work.

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