Cheapest Known Plog

date: March 25, 2006
subject: backlog
listening to: the sound coming out of the TV

Ah it's finally getting nice out! It feels like a weight has been lifted, and people can start doing things again. It's supposedly gay to talk about the weather, yet it influences our moods so much, that it's no wonder that people discuss it so often - it's the great leveler since it affects everyone. Everyone except angry loners such as myself. And yet here I am, loving the weather talk. Montreal in the spring is the best place in the world. Of course, we still have like 4 snowstorms to go before we're in the clear.

In this entry I will post many a pic from the last couple months; ones that I had no way to fit into previous entries, but good ones nonetheless. There is no unifying theme (or is there (or isn't there!?)!). And for the sake of simplicity, the pics are just listed in alphabetical order (or aren't they?).

Many of these are just "person" shots. People I know and you may know some of them. They all deserve their 15kb of fame I figure, god love 'em.


Aidan from Godspeed Bike getting into it at Gay, Lesbian, Transsexual, and Gender-Fucked night at Saphir. Thanks to trailblazers like TV's Felicity Huffman, we will likely see more and more of these events!


Same night. The little girl is my nephew, and the old man is my aunt. Awesome to see them out celebrating the diversity. More power to 'em I say.


This guy is a guy, and he guards the bathrooms at the club. With all the gender-fucked-ness it can get sort of territorial and clique-y and surprisingly violent, in the darkened stalls....The shemales in particular are bad, often brandishing knives.


He has gone from a Pitchfork-quoting music-snob scenester to a hard-working barkeep with just the right amount of jadedness. And friendly. And when he asks you "what's wrong?", he's not trying to piss you off or imply that you look upset about something, he's just genuinely concerned. I love you Nick. I'm sorry for all those times I tried to strangle you.


He has gone from a hard-working audio tech guy to an even harder-working audio tech guy, she has gone from a teenage folk singer in Ontario to a fuzzed-out beer drinker who rocks an SG like Angus Young. Why do I ever worry about anyone? They all rule.


He has gone from a.....fuck it. My friend Paul has good taste in music, makes films, and has incredibly hairy arms and hands. We had tried to go see Whitehouse and Wolf Eyes that night but Whitehouse cancelled. Boos all around.


Sometimes there is just too much beauty in the world. Caption applies to the above pic as well.


Junglist Fridays(c) ended after six successful years. It was often awesome. This was on the last night ever. Everybody was plogging away, inlcuding Corey K.


Krinjah, possibly Montreal's finest jungle export, was there of course, as he was one of the co-founders. A sweetheart too. It makes me pretty angry that somebody smashed a bottle on his forehead because he was trying to let somebody who wasn't black into a reggae night the day before this. He was in there already, and he's clearly white, so what the fuck? Some people eh! Fuck the Blue Dog.


The other co-founder of the night Mike Stabba, rocking out. It's his last night, so let him have his day. Even if it looks a bit gay, I assure you the place was raging. You go girl!


Before that we were at a bar with a shark hanging from the ceiling! Hammerhead my ass!


A young George Harrison and his lovely girlfriend Patty (who Eric Claptop later stole!)


This is a tunnel that I walk through at least once a day. If I skateboarded I think this place would be wicked for that. Also the acoustics are pretty cool - how about doing a show in this little uncharted area? It's like International Waters in this little stretch of no-man's land. The usual rules don't apply.


It gets so boring during my lunch hours (it's 75 minutes actually - what is one supposed to do in that time??) that I sometimes go to The Gap fitting rooms and do unspeakable filthy acts in there. I'm serious, what the fuck else is one supposed to do with all the time? "Idle hands", they say....


You certainly can't hang out in the food court. It's a veritable sea of douchebags. Get your lunch down there if necessary then get the hell out. You cannot hang down there with these people, they are the dregs of society! Dregs I tell you!!.


These are all the same people that get on the escalator and just stand there, blocking the way, blocking society's progress. It's like they were walking along thinking "man, this walking buisiness is such a drag. I wish I would get to some kind of machine - some kind of conveyance that would carry me part of the way. Oh nice, an escalator! I will stand here (not "to the right" or anything, stand where ever you want - especially right in the middle. Stand there.) and let it transport me. Meanwhile I'm developing anger tumors from my constant daily "escalator rage". Don't even get me started actually...


It's good that Visa is trying to branch out to different cultural groups I guess, but do they have to be so blatant about it? Is this card only good for malt liquor and fried chicken? Man, that's racist.


The laughs never ever ever cease when these two are around. I really think they should have a reality show. It would be the kind of show that teaches everybody that no matter what they are doing, they could still be laughing more and having more funny things happen to them. Everything is funny to these two! Be it a word, a look, a shoe, or a giant plush snake named Snaith.


I like this arty shot of my table. That's all.


DJ Murdock. Named after the autistic guy on the A-Team who could fly a plane. That's a good name. If you need a DJ to rock your party with a breaks remix of "New Sensation" by INSX, I can't think of a better candidate.


Dapper Stoned Spaniards in Argyle - yes please!


My boy Dac, my girl Fun-rosa. Dac is wiping piss off his hands and Fun is taking off a shoe or something, while showing a bit too much tit, imho. No harm done...


Fun's sock is thematically related to Dac's last album. This sort of thing makes me almost beleive in the "Celestine Prophecy", then I remember it's for fat midwestern Oprah devotees. Still though, it really makes you think.


The cheeky door-sign on my office door at work which nobody gets. Oh wait, there's nothing to really get. It's the sort of thing where if my boss thought it was 100% serious then he would just think I'm an unfunny keener, and if he thought it was sarcastic then he would think that I'm not "at your service" at all, and that I actually hate dealing with any co-worker for any reason. Which is sort of true some days, but not the message I really want to get accross, which is why I ultimately took it down. Still though, I love my David Rees.


Somebody has this on their desk at my office. I'm pretty jealous. I think it dispenses water that smells a bit like a kitten and tastes faintly of pussy. So that's what gets her through her days...


Others try to escape the drudgery of the daily grind with peaceful "executive zen sand garden" type things...


I'll show them what I think about that. Others yet have those mini dart boards, and they throw the tiny dart at the board imagining that the bullseye is the eyeball of that bitch in accounting. And then some find it's more peaceful to just have a quiet wank in the stairwell (thinking of the bitch from accounting masturbating with a dart stuck in her bleeding eyeball), rubbing out the stress. It's fucking dark.


I'm at my most zen when I'm up on crazy rooftops. But where's my fucking danger pay, I want to know! People ask me what I do at my job and it's like "what don't I do?"


Here is brother Ben from the Sidewinder's Society, a semi-secret drinking club I'm a part of. Here he is admiring the various plaques on the wall honouring our great founder Balfe Siedbinder. This was on the yearly occasion of the first day of "St. Binder's Fortnight". We don't have any openings right now in the club, and probably never will. But don't feel bad that you can't join, we don't do anything other than exist to make you feel bad that you're not a member. Or so we want you to think!


Gotta show the other member of the aforementioned soc., one Mr. Otto Octavius. What a wicked guy. Owns an actual printing press, on which he will press his novel once it's completed. Who does that in this day and age? He also "owns the pwned ascott", so to speak, and of course only sports a wristwatch with over seventeen complications.


We like to look good when we throw down at the various secret bars we frequent (and I mean frequent).


And draw pencil drawings which document the proceedings. That's all I can possibly say about the Side-Soc. at risk of violating the semi-secrecy of it all.


Some cool graf near my work. I'm really giving a lot of clues to the stalkers out there and that is because I guess that I wish someone would actually stalk me. I think we all do, deep down. As Don Barthelme put it, "The distinction between children and adults, while probably useful for some purposes, is at bottom a specious one, I feel. There are only individual egos, crazy for love."


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