997th Post – A Noble Experiment

This is my first attempt to create a blog post using Windows Live Writer.  It is a free download from Microsoft that lets me create blog posts off line.  I can be at the cottage without an internet connection and yet write something that can be uploaded at a later date when I am attached to a network. 

There are a frightening number of add-on’s and plug-in’s to Windows Live Writer.  I am sure that in the upcoming months I’ll have fun learning them.  Right now, though, I am daunted by now much I have to learn from it.

I can write a blog post in this editor and press a button to see a preview of how it will look when I choose to publish the thing.  This should (“should”) eliminate some of the unpleasant spacing issues I have had with things like the interviews I have published over the last few months.  Maybe you haven’t noticed them, but I have.

Oh, in the late hours of Sunday night, I received a major piece of what will be revealed in post 1000, coming up in a couple of days.  I’ll show that stuff off then.  I very much hope you like those things.  I sure do.   I am very excited about showing them to you.

There are always growing pains as one learns a new technology.  Do wish me luck learning this one, won’t you?

Bevboy

996th Post - Deadwood Gag Reels

How many of you remember "Deadwood", which ran on HBO from 2004 to 2006? We loved the show, although it's not for everybody, to put it mildly. It was probably the most realistic Western show ever. There are probably no Western movies that are more realistic than Deadwood was.

Deadwood was a very frank look at the town of Deadwood as it tries to become civilized, going from a lawless community to one where laws are upheld. The language is raw and violent, but also picaresque, with a Shakespearean quality to it. This was done on purpose as creator David Milch knew that language in mining camps was outrageous. He also cited local newspapers and books of the day, with its florid prose. Combining the two types of language made sense to him.

There is no guarantee that the actual words uttered by characters on the show were used by people a hundred plus years ago. However, Milch wanted the words to be as shocking to us as the words they used back then would have been to visitors to Deadwood. Those words may not be nearly as upsetting to us now, with our 21st century mentality.

There were supposed to be 4 seasons of the show. During season 2, it was renewed for seasons 3 and 4. Something happened to make HBO decide not to go forward with season 4. I think that reason was season 3, which was dull and lifeless compared with the first 2. HBO promised 2 tv movies to wrap up the loose ends, but they have never materialized and are now unlikely to.

We have those 36 episodes to sustain us, and they will have to do. They, and these gag reels I found on youtube just now. There is a gag reel for season 1, but the audio has been removed, which is most of the fun.

You can tell when actors blow a line on Deadwood. They DON'T swear!

Season 2:




Season 3:



More tonight,if you're good.

Bevboy

995th Post - An Empty House

I am back in the city after a quick trip to the cottage yesterday.

Slept a frightening amount last night and took a long nap this afternoon. Patricia and I call it "The Sleeping Sickness": Our overwhelming desire to sleep when we are at the cottage. I sleep well here, too, but much more so at the cottage.

Had a headache all day. Hope to sleep it off tonight.

See you tomorrow.

From Bevboy's BlackBerry to BevBoy's Blog!

994th Post - One Last Cottage Visit

Greetings from the Press Room in the town of Pictou. I drove up to the cottage this morning and will be here until Sunday afternoon. We are shutting the place down for another year, over the next several days.

People keep thinking that we are rich because we have 2 households. Nope. Not the case at all. And there are time when it can be a pain in the ass. Coming up in November to deal with the cottage is one of those times.

We hire a plumber to remove the pressure tank from underneath the cottage because the last one mysteriously disappeared a few years ago. The water pipes are all drained.

We also have to remove the things that we would prefer to keep in the city. We'll remove the battery from the lawn tractor. We'll get rid of the food we no longer want. We'll turn up the heat so that we don't freeze our scrogies off. And we'll pray that the ATV in the next lot drops off the face of the earth.

Time to head back to the cottage. 2 weeks of "Dancing with the Stars" to watch. Life is good.

Bevboy

993rd Post - A Place I'll Never See Again

Some of you will know that the mansion of the Lieutenant Governor of Nova Scotia has been undergoing very significant renovations for about 3 years now. She moves into the mansion in a few weeks. Today, my work arranged tours of the joint, and I was lucky enough to get an invite.

I took lots of pictures this morning. Probably too many, actually, because I think I was getting on people's nerves. But the way I figured it is, "I'll never be in this building again as long as I live. Ain't nobody going to appoint me Lt. Governor of the Province of Nova Scotia, ever. I'm unlikely to be invited to the annual tea party. I'm going to take full advantage of this opportunity".

I'll put up a couple of pictures here on the blog; but most of them will go up on my facebook. Not tonight. It's getting a little late and I don't look forward to driving in the snowstorm that's supposed to this evening. But probably on Friday I'll put up a picture or two and share my impressions with you.

I'll give you a hint though: It was pretty neat, being there today. I hope the 100 pictures or so that I took will give you some idea of the grandeur of the place.

Stay tuned.

Bevboy

992nd Post - Get These Out of Your Head

We all have songs that we like enough to sing along to them. I am not sure if my vocalized stylings could be characterized as singing. "Caterwauling" is more like it.

But one song I have enjoyed since the 1980's, and which I still like a lot (mostly because it doesn't get played to death on the radio) is Iron Maiden's "Run to the Hills". If you want to take the time to listen to the lyrics, it seems to be about how white men have treated native people so shabbily.

When I hear the song on the radio, I turn it up. This evening, after Toastmasters, I booted up youtube and played several versions of the song. This is my favourite, from Rockin' in Rio. I hope you like it.




Another song I can't get out of my head, try as I might, is for a local taxi company. It is hard to remember their phone numbers. From time to time, this company is the official taxi provider to the provincial government. It changes from year to year. I think it's Yellow Cab this year, but I just can't remember and don't worry my pretty little head about it.

At any rate, once you hear this song, which has been played on local radio and television since the 1970's(!), you'll have a hard time forgetting the number to... Casino Taxi!

The song was originally done by Joe Murphy and the Water Street Blues Band, a long time ago. They were paid a few hundred dollars to write and produce the song, which was their only compensation. And yet, 30+ years later, you have a hard time not hearing the song on any given day.




You non-Haligonians: You're lucky!

Bevboy

991st Post - Stupid Things Bevboy Has Done, Part Four

Welcome to the fourth installment of my irregularly-published feature on Bevboy's Blog: Stupid Things Bevboy Has Done, or STBHD for short. This series is all about dumb things I have done over the many years of my life, or the dumb things I have had done to me. The net result is my feeling, well, stupid.

This time, I want to discuss a stupid event from my early adulthood. I had just moved out of my parents' home and forged my own life in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia. I was living at 55 Dahlia Street, Apt. 208. My phone number back then was (902) 466-4755. I wonder who has that number now? Why don't you call and find out?

Anyway, I had become independant but there were still apron strings attached. Lonely and hating my job and not being used to the city, I'd go home every weekend. Lazy and incompetent, I'd have my mother do my laundry for me. I think every young man who's just moved out gets his mother to wash his clothes for a bit after he moves out.

I'd carry home the week's worth of clothes in a garbage bag, and return them in the same garbage bag. My parents bought the same brand name of bags for their own use. This was before you had to recycle everything.

I justified my mother doing all this work by the fact that I was busy during the week, working at this crappy, underpaying but overdemanding job. At night, the building's one washing machine and one dryer were often in use, and I'd have a hard time finding a time when one or both of them were available.

I kept my garbage bag full of clothes in the kitchen by the wood stove. My parents' garbage bag, with actual garbage in it, was always nearby.

My father enjoyed eating prunes back then. It was one of his favourite snacks. The pits, of course, are inedible. Dad would spit them out into the woodstove, or place them in the garbage bag.

One Sunday night, I returned to the city with my bag full of clean clothes to wear that week. I upended the bag and placed the contents on my bed, in preparation of arranging them into piles of socks, undies, pants, and so on. You know: So I could put them away.

There were sticky, hard things attached to some of the clothes. Upon closer examination, I discovered that my father had confused the two garbage bags. Rather than put those pits in their bag, he had spat them into mine. My dirty clothes, cleaned by my mother, had become dirty again.

Yeah. I know. I felt pretty stupid.

To this day, I don't know if this was a subliminal way to get me to stop taking my dirty clothes home every weekend, or an honest mistake on his part. He would not remember this small event after so long. But I remember it, and I am sharing it with you now because I learned from this. I never took my clothes home again. I found a way to find the time to wash them during the week, fending more and more for myself, like I should have all along anyway. Some lessons are hard learned and not appreciated at the time. This was one of them.

Next time: A science experiment that went wrong.