I am not very good at hockey

I played my first game of the young hockey season tonight and I wasn't at the top of my game. Not to make excuses, but it had been a long while since I had played, my skates were dull, and I forgot to put in my contacts. Also, even though I have a youthful twinkle in my eye and a jaunty spring in my step, I am quite old and creaky. I was hoping to get out and play in a lower-level league before tonight to kind of get back into the groove, but I never got the chance. Damn.

In other news, I have had some very tasteful nude photographs of myself taken. They make wonderful use of shading, colour, and perspective, and are really quite artistic. I have decided not to post them though. I have taken great pains to grow my hair, groom my moustache, and alter my style of dress in order to avoid detection by my many enemies, and I'm not about to risk everything just so you perverts can have a peak at my John Thomas.

I'm back and life could not be more depressing....

....I forgot to cut my hair. I am sick of being a hippie. Granola makes me sick to my stomach, hemp clothes irritate my skin, I want to wash my hair regularly again, and If I have to listen to one more Joanna Newsom song I'm going to throw myself out a window. I'm living the dream kids, but it's become a nightmare.

Anyway, it's midterm election day tomorrow. I hereby endorse the Democratic Party in every race. And don't forget to vote "YES!" as many times as they'll let you for proposition1 - you know, the question about being able to buy booze at grocery stores and kindergartens. Vote for more freedom, more choice, and easier wine access for those of us forced to hoof it to the store in the middle of winter just to get our daily fix...er, I mean aperitif.

Oh god, that reminds me....the lamest magazine in the world is En Route (the Air Canada in-flight rag). That magazine is for self-indulgent, soft-bellied loungers and no one else. You know the type: people who call themselves oenophiles or actually use the term foodie as anything other than a euphemism for glutton. Blergh.....it churns my stomach. No joke, there was actually an article about a spa treatment where they wrap you like sushi in seaweed and other ingredients and then roll you in sesame seeds. Huh? I'm supposed to pay for this? Seems a bit fishy.

Ha! I kill me!

I wonder where they stick the wasabi?!?!!! Hey Hoooooo!

It's a squeaker!

Wow! The latest numbers are in, and boy is it a squeaker! The nays have it so far by 1 vote to 0, but at this juncture it is far too close to call. We have volunteers manning my internet conducting exit polls. One voter, when asked how he voted, replied "I voted Nay because I like my hair and don't want to cut it."

Turnout is low so far, but representatives of both sides in the campaign say they expect things to pick up later this evening, with continued momentum building tomorrow. An opinion poll conducted earlier today by Angus Reid would seem to indicate that this optimism is misplaced, as voter apathy is at an all-time high. When internet users were asked their take on the issue, 62% called it "a particularly distasteful and pitiful example of self-indulgent blogging onanism", and 28% responded "Mr. who?"

Polls close tomorrow at 5pm.

Vote to save my ponytail

That's right. My ponytail is gonna get chopped off - unless you care enough to save it. Today I went to Downtown Crossing to talk to my stylist. She mapped out a whole new "fashion forward" look for me, based on the style of my favourite living journalist/polemicist, Christopher Hitchens:

I'm on board with the jowls, the tweed, the cigarettes, and the shirts unbuttoned to 6 inches above the navel. Unfortunately, part of the fashion-forward roadmap involves a Hitchens-style haircut. We argued forever about it, but finally I agreed that if public opinion was onside, I would get my hair cut in Ottawa next weekend.

Save my ponytail. Hitch would want it that way.

Today's "Chat with Mr. Apple" was a miserable failure.

I sat in front of my laptop for 4 hours with MSN messenger running and not one of my "Millions and millions of readers worldwide"™ logged on to chat with me.

Thinking of washing my hair

It's been almost 4 weeks since I washed it. It looks pretty gross and if you touch it, it feels like you're petting a squid. Also, my whole head smells like Canola oil or something. My pillow has a big oil slick on it like the newspaper they wrap fried fish in.

Imagine a guy who comes home every night and then goes and runs around for 30-40 minutes and sweats buckets and then showers, but doesn't apply soap to his greasy head!?!?!!!

This type of behaviour can only be described as obsessive and bizarre. I have this problem where once I start doing something I never want to stop. That's why my hair is past my shoulders now even though I hate hippies and don't play in a rock band. People get stranger as they age. Tomorrow, I lather.

A great achievement

Check out the quiz HERE.

It tests you to see how consistent your belief system is. I am amazed to report that I have 0% tension - meaning my belief system is pretty damn consistent. I have decided that everyone should try to live according to a well-reasoned personal philosophy, otherwise you are just a lab rat or a dairy cow.

Some girls like it when you call them "sweetheart"...

...but some girls don't.

Possibly I am going crazy

I have not washed my hair in over 2 weeks. Chemicals are bad and natural oils get stripped etc.. My hair is exceptionally greasy, but has been getting better recently. Do normal people do shit like this? Probably not, let's face it.

Greek Philosophers were so full of it

I'm re-reading a couple books I bought a few years ago when I was having a tough time and was trying to convince myself to keep a stiff upper lip. They are Epictetus' Four Discourses. He was a stoic who said the only thing we truly have control of is our moral purpose. Not coincidentally, Mr. Epictetus valued the correct application of said moral purpose above all else. What is correct application of one's moral purpose? As far as I can tell, it means you act like a complete lunatic. For example, let's say someone wanted to imprison and torture Epictetus unless he performed in some play that he considered demeaning. Well Epictetus would say something ridiculous like,

"Imprison my paltry body if you must, but you'll never chain my moral purpose!"

Well how about I cut your head off then?

"When did I ever claim mine was the only head that couldn't be sliced off?"

Oh God.....spare me. Your inflexibility is admirable in a weird way, but you're not much of a pragmatist are you? **CHOP**

Basically he comes across as a non-violent fundamentalist madman. Nothing material has any value, including his own life. It's interesting to read the guy's thoughts and see how he builds up his ideas around totally false premises (for example, how God created everything in the natural world - like body parts - to perfectly fit some preordained purpose). Of course he didn't know about evolution at the time, and he didn't know that the neurons that were the source of his moral purpose would get lopped off with his neck, so we can't really blame him. But imagine if this kind of philosophy ever took hold? Imagine the horrors you could justify if you dismissed real, physical suffering and the only thing you valued was something as abstract and nebulous asyour victim's moral purpose? Of course, we don't really have to imagine it at all since there are already too many people who'd rather save a soul than save a life, but the scary thing is that at one point in my life this heap of crap actually made a lot of sense.

Assholes Smoke Pipes

"You know what? You're a real asshole Holmes."

So I bought a pipe....but I have a problem. My problem is that if I ever saw a guy like me sitting on a bench in a public place smoking a pipe I would think to myself, "What an asshole." It's kind of like when you see a guy walking around with no shirt on. It doesn't matter why he's shirtless, he's automatically just an asshole. If he's in great shape, he's an egotistical asshole. If he's not in great shape, he's a deluded and egotistical asshole. Same with a pipe. A pipe is the bare chest of the insufferable pseudo-intellectual. The most obnoxious meathead in the world ripping his shirt off to impress some girls is only half as annoying as the pitiful affectation of the pipe smoker puffing away like Sherlock Holmes. At least a bare chest might get you laid.

But perhaps I'm being a touch harsh.

I've actually tried the pipe out a few times, and I enjoy it. It smells nice. There's no coughing and hacking since the smoke isn't inhaled. Your fingers don't stink afterwards. Maybe people who smoke pipes just do it because they enjoy it? Maybe it doesn't make you an asshole at all? And even if it is a bit of an affectation, who cares? I mean we all have those, don't we?

So, you see, I've painted myself into a corner. Either I'm an asshole because I like the pipe, or I'm an asshole because I think people who smoke pipes are assholes.

Either way, I'm fine with it.

The Problem with Cigars

So my experiment with cigars has taught me a few things.

First of all, cigars are big. They are not like cigarettes, since you can't duck outside for a brief smoke. They take a long ****in' time to finish. If I lived in a place that allowed me to smoke indoors this would present no problem. As it stands I'm not allowed to smoke in my apartment, so unless I'm willing to walk around for an hour smoking a goddamn cigar looking like an idiot, then I think I may have to reconsider the cigar idea. The other problem with cigars is that they are very expensive. No wonder the caricatured image of a cigar smoker is a big, fat, wealthy businessman - these are the only guys that can afford them. Actually, there's another stogie-smoking caricature: cocky asshole MBA students or young lawyers in 3-piece suits. Oh god, that's not me. No, I'm afraid I'll have to give up cigars cold turkey.

Next on the list:
1. Chewing tobacco
2. A pipe
3. Snuff

I will let you know how these work out. I'm particularly excited about the pipe. I don't know why I didn't think of this one before! Oh man - it will go so well with the tweed jacket that I'm buying.

Mr. Apple, pipe smoker. I love it.

I Think I would look good in a Tweed Jacket

I am thinking of rocking a new look:

1. Cut my hair short
2. Tweed jacket
3. Cords/wool pants
4. Short, well kept beard

This, I am convinced, will make me look distinguished.

I am sick of scuzzy chicks. I need some class in my life.