UPDATED: Record of transaction buying a CD at Funky Pickle Pizza
I woke up this morning in a big pile of regret over the one drink that was too many last night. Crumpled in a heap, lying broken under the covers, I wished helplessly for the bad times to end.
A couple hours later operable motor function returned, as did my will to live. Good times can have their consequences, and we surely had many good times Friday night.
I’m not an overly social guy, in so far as I don’t flutter about the pub like a happy-go-lucky butterfly chatting with folk at random. Meeting new people is always a blast, but I generally require some kind of “in” to get the conversation started.
That’s why I enjoy traveling so much. Chatting with fellow travelers is a breeze because everyone likes to share where they have been and what they have seen. Starting a conversation is as simple as asking “where are you from?”
At the local pubs I don’t have that easy in, so I sit quiet a sip my drink like the creepy, disheveled old man end of the bar.
For some this is not a problem at all; watching my friend Russell work a room full of young lasses is something to behold. Russ has no hang ups starting up a conversation, he’s quick and efficient, like some kind of futuristic macking robot. Target acquired; setting charm to maximum; initiating flirting sequence.
I credit much of Russell’s efficiency to his spectacular handsomeness. His presence is the perfect equation of a tan complexion, fit, hairless body and an adorable baby face. All these elements add up to powerful chick magnetism not even science could improve upon. I, myself, would jump Russell’s bones in a second if I were not furiously heterosexual.
There is plenty of benefit to hanging out with a confident guy like Russ, inevitably that confidence rubs off, and we had a fantastic time meeting all kinds of strangers last night. We met an actress/yoga instructor working a one night gig selling shots; a couple students hailing from Venezuela; and a Canadian Military officer who commands a legion of tanks.
I also bought a CD in a pizza joint from a musician named Carrie Hryniw who had just finished playing a gig at Edmonton’s SOS Fest.
I’m not really sure where I was going with this story, but you are now armed with the knowledge that my friend Russell is a hot stud and I’m afraid to talk to strangers because they scare me.
Hey folks, I’m back! Did you miss me? Of course you did.
I don’t understand software companies. Strike that; I don’t understand one software company in particular, Adobe.
Check out this online poll from 2008, it suggests that 60% of Adobe Photoshop users pirate the program. Sixty percent!
Now, that number probably isn’t entirely shocking. Let’s be honest, most of you are likely running at least a couple pirated applications on your PC. Perhaps some of you run stolen software exclusively; a stubborn “Fuck you!” to the whole of Silicon Valley.
Adobe is aware of this rampant piracy rate, I assume; few companies get as huge as they are without intimately knowing their market. It puzzles me why they haven’t reacted to it.
I know, I know, Adobe has indeed employed many anti-piracy tactics, and to their credit stealing Photoshop isn’t as easy as it used to be. Not that I have tried…you know…to steal it. My official position is that I own a perfectly legal copy of Adobe Photoshop and certainly have not been using it free of charge for the last 15 years. There, lawsuit averted!
What I mean is Adobe hasn’t reacted to piracy from a marketing perspective, as their software is still ridiculously expensive. Purchasing a legal copy of Adobe Photoshop CS5 will set you back a painful $800CDN. May the Flying Spaghetti Monster help you if you also require Illustrator.
Here’s the thing, Adobe; when 60% of the market is not willing to pay you eight-hundred dollars your product is too expensive!
Honestly, I don’t know what is so difficult to understand about this. I’m just some dick with a useless college diploma and a lame blog, yet I feel like I understand economics better than Adobe does.
Look, if only four out of ten potential buyers are purchasing Photoshop at $800 you make $3200. But if you drop the price to something more reasonable, say $400, and sell copies to all ten you make $4000! Pulling out the ole’ brain calculator that is a gain of positive hundreds of dollars.
Yes, there will always be piracy. Adobe will never see the day ten out of ten users are legal. However, I would argue making Photoshop more economically accessible creates new repeat customers eager to slap another $200 down for an upgrade to CS6. How could growing your market be a bad thing?
Photoshop has become an artistic tool as ubiquitous as the paint brush; albeit an elaborate paint brush made of ivory with bristles hand picked from a unicorn’s ball sack. My point being, even a nice set of paint brushes won’t set your credit card on fire.
I kind of have a soft spot for Miss Lohan though, she was in Mean Girls. Means Girls was good. However, 2004 was a long time ago and Lindsay’s kind, endearing face has evolved into an angry, weathered grimace.
Hey nightmares, meet your newest friend.
Nobody wants to see you naked when you look like Courtney Love, so, scraping the bottom of the washed-up-celebrate barrel, Lohan is staging the only attention-grabbing method left to her: suing the pants off somebody.
So what happened is this financial company called E-Trade ran a commercial featuring a bunch of talking babies discussing their stock market portfolios
Before I explain further, can I get every advertising agency everywhere to listen up for a second? Nobody likes talking babies. What you think is cute and funny we find creepy and unnatural.
I’ll sum up our disdain for talking babies in two words: Baby Geniuses. I rest my case.
In the ad a baby, who sounds like an aggravating frat-boy you would sell your first born to punch, is apologizing to his baby girlfriend over video chat for not calling the previous night. You see, he spent all night diversifying his portfolio and had no time for bitches. In a fit of jealousy the girlfriend snaps “that milkaholic Lindsay wasn’t over?” (Get it? Milkaholic, cause they’re babies). “Lindsay?” says the the frat-baby, innocently, as his baby-mistress pops her head into the frame and blurts “Milka-what?!”
Lohan’s lawyer, Stephanie Ovadia, saw the “Lindsay” character as a “parody of [Lindsay Lohan’s] life.” The parody, of course, being that Lohan also enjoys milk. She claims Lindsay has the same single name recognition as Oprah or Madonna – she doesn’t – and E-Trade is using that knowledge to turn a profit.
So what is this slanderous commercial worth to Lohan? One-hundred million dollars. One-hundred million. That will sure put a whole lot of milk up her nose. She deserves it though. Lohan, after all, has put so many tough hours in at the local nightclub bathroom stall to become the fantastic wreck she is today. To see some company try to make a quick buck off her hard work is just unconscionable.
Pornography Positive for Society?
Religious groups have long lobbied against the pornographic industry. Christians can often be heard bemoaning porn for corroding our sexual morality; promoting the degradation of women; and contributing to our unholy predilection for doggy-style. It is too bad really, a religious grudge, centuries old, when all the porn industry just wants is to spread some love.
All over your face.
Earlier this month an online magazine, The Scientist, published an article examining the negatives claims so often heard from religious groups regarding pornography.
At this point I should give Christian readers the opportunity to cover their ears and yell “lalalalalalala,” because you won’t like this.
It turns out studies of regions where exposure to pornography has increased show a decrease in sex crime. In fact, a study of prison inmates revealed that rapists were exposed to less porn as a child than their non-rapist counterparts. Rapist were also more likely to have been punished for looking at dirty magazines. Pornography, it would seem, is not the cause of corrupt sexual behavior.
But to contradict the religious position further, the article go on to say “what does correlate highly with sex offense is a strict, repressive religious upbringing”
I typed "pornography" into Google Images and cencorsed the naughty parts.
Aggressively repressing sexual urges can be dangerous, we need only look to the sad history of the Catholic Church as a good example. Pornography can act as an outlet for sexual aggression, The Scientist says, and for some that may send your moral compass spinning about. Not nearly as much, however, as learning that in countries where possession of child pornography is legal instances of child sex abuse has dropped. Say “hello” to the most difficult ethics debate you’ve ever had with yourself. You are welcome.
Peacock!
In local news, a peacock is running loose in suburban Edmonton. Having done no research on the characteristics of peacocks, I surmise that residents are keeping safe in their homes to avoid becoming a victim of the peacock’s saw-like teeth and poison projectile feathers.
Apparently an occupant in the neighborhood raises exotic birds despite Edmonton’s strict no-peacock law, enacted after a feathery massacre killed something like 500,000 Edmontonians. Again I haven’t looked any of this up, but I’m reasonably certain it happened and wasn’t just some bad Outer Limits episode I watched at three in the morning.
Anyway, the bird is now running amuck forcing fire fighters and animal control to scurry about suburbia attempting to catch a fleet-footed giant bird. Edmonton is one world class city.
Avid Facebook users, I think, are well familiar with a new social networking phenomenon, the serial status. People post some “profound” political or social statement which then asks readers to re-post the same message in their own status. Basically it’s a chain letter for social networkers, and every bit as annoying, if not more so. Here’s an example I read today:
I ADMIT I’M A BITCH. I make mistakes, at times I am out of control and hard to handle – but if you can’t handle me at my worst then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best. If you’re a bitch then post this on your status. I DARE YOU :-) ♥ ♥
Okay, admitting you are a bitch, while it may display some brave self-awareness, doesn’t give you a license to go right on being one. If your friends can’t “handle” you because you are such a huge bitch all the time, I have a suggestion, stop being a huge bitch.
I would think that if you can’t be bothered to give someone your best, then you don’t deserve theirs. You know, makes some sense.
One week after my tirade decrying the Canadian Olympic Committee’s “Own the Podium” program our athletes rallied for a record setting haul of gold medals at the Winter Olympics, forcing me to eat my words, and eat them good. Here’s what I said last week:
At this point it looks like the only thing Canadians will own are the wet blankets the Americans have been dashing our Olympic hopes with.
What likely happened is the Canadian Olympic team caught wind of my negative musings (because my blog is wildly and insanely popular), were like “Hey! Fuck that guy!” and set out to prove me wrong. My blog gave our Olympians the motivation they needed to win!
So basically, I won the Olympics for us. You’re welcome Canada. If you wish to thank me I will be accepting gratitude in the form of cashier’s cheques.
While last week was a truly amazing week to be Canadian, not everything in Vancouver was of the spectacular variety. The closing ceremonies were…what word can I use here…asstacular? Sure, let’s go with that.
The whole ceremony was basically about how awesome and amazing Canada is, which is great if you are Canadian, but I kept thinking about the hundreds of athletes from around the globe who had to sit and endure a great white north wank-fest.
I’ll roll my eyes watching any movie that has one of those gratuitous American flag shots (think any Spider-man film), if you’re not American it’s just kind of annoying. I couldn’t take three hours of that, there’s just no way. Hats off to the world athletes who managed it with dignity.
Of course, then we had to throw a lip-syncing Nickelback at them.
I don’t really need more reasons to dislike Nickelback. Had Avril Lavigne, Hedley or Simple Plan also lip-synced I might have given Chad a pass, but they all performed live. There are two possibilities here: either Chad thinks the public is too stupid to know the difference between a live performance and a clean record track, or he just doesn’t give a shit. Either way he’s an asshole.
For the record, Alanis Morissette was also lip-syncing, but I like Alanis. I’ll cop to being biased.
Speaking of music at the Olympics, I assume you all heard the official theme song, if not here it is in all its schlocky-pop glory:
This insipid song was kind of CTV’s baby, playing it after each Canadian medal victory, which was more than a little pretentious. So when I heard one of CTV’s anchors claim that “I Believe” was a number one hit I nearly leapt from my chair and screamed “my hairy balls it is!!!” Then I checked the iTunes top ten:
You make me very sad, iTunes.
While I think CTV spends too much time patting themselves on the back, I must admit, the coverage for these Olympic games was truly impressive. I also have to give the network props for a fantastic video essay which aired just before the closing ceremonies with a touching, inspiring message.
Over clips of winning performances and a city genuinely alive with Olympic spirit, a narrator spoke. Canadians entered the games expecting to win the medal count, he said, but quickly discovered it wasn’t the count that mattered. It turned out the remarkable stories that unfolded – like Alexandre Bilodeau tearing up talking about his brother Frederic, who has cerebral palsy, or Joannie Rochette winning bronze just days after her mother suddenly passed away – were what mattered and touched people the most.
I must admit, I was quite guilty of eyeing the medal count, myself. Televised patriotism, to me, is rarely moving; mostly it is just contrived. CTV’s essay was refreshingly honest and helped me put the games in a much better perspective.
