Dinner tonight: sardines in soya oil with whole wheat nachos and medium salsa followed by goat's yogurt mixed with maple syrup, strawberries, and Irish essiac, and then a slice of pumpkin pie. Nice way to celebrate the Broncos third victory of the season (can't believe they're winning on defence).

All of these Canadian elections are getting to be pretty lame. Something tells me, generally speaking, that Western Canada will vote for the Conservatives, Ontario and the Maritimes for the Liberals, and Québec for the Bloc, again. When will either the Conservatives or the Liberals realize that the Bloc holds the balance of power and cut a deal with them? Or just start trying to make minority politics work.

Until a true leader emerges.

Not being able to distinguish between encouragement and sarcasm is a problem.

Rode my bike through a herd of elk the other day. Never seen elk before. They are as beautiful to watch as they are delicious to eat.

Trying to come up with the most awkwardly acceptable new age aphorism when meeting new people may not be the best way of introducing yourself.

Wardrobe

I am wearing an emerald shirt.
The grass has recently been mown.
3 large coffees in the afternoon.
A car that is yellow.

G. I. Joe: the Rise of Cobra

Can't say much about Stephen Sommer's G. I. Joe: the Rise of Cobra. Probably shouldn't have gone to see it but was a fan of the cartoon growing up, and, consequently, nothing could stop me from viewing it, not well reasoned arguments articulating that I generally dislike this kind of movie, or the unfortunate reality that while these nostalgic flicks are supposed to reassert some long lost kernel of youth, they don't, and probably never will, because, they're lame, period.

But oh well.

The Joe's are no longer super tough icons of natural militaristic bravado inasmuch as they now require extraodrinarily complex machines to perform their monumentous tasks (a reflection upon how much more technologically dependent we are now than we were in the 80's), but, while engaging in battle, battles which require an exceptional degree of split-second extremely athletic mental and physcial ability, instant decision making and what have you, they still stop to taunt, encourage, or hit on one another, ridiculously relevant content reminiscent of its cartoon form. Where the film really fails is the ending. Screenwriters Stuart Beattie, David Elliot, and Paul Lovett obviously sincerely disliked Superman I's closing moments, for in Joe Ripcord (Marlon Wayans) has a jet fast enough to track down and destroy two deadly missals fired at targets on either side of the globe, lickedy split. Terrible, but, like I said, I probably shouldn't have gone to see this, although, unfortunately, nothing in this world could have stopped me.