What I should be doing: Planning meals and shopping for the week.  Because the one thing I've found helps me cope and combat all the bad foods trying to invade my home is planning.  The enemy of good health is lack of time, and television.

What I am doing: Watching Oprah, who's doing some special on diabetes.  Some woman has no feet because she ignored diabetes until it was too late.  Doctor Oz just showed a pyramid of bags of sugar, then he took away half of it and said "That's how much sugar people were eating a generation ago"  We haven't quite doubled the average sugar intake, but it's getting close.  In one generation. 

My life is just too full at the moment to reply to everyone who has commented, or sent me private emails (Thanks Lionel, you gave me the best advise) regarding my last few posts.  So sorry I can't say thank you to everyone who has commented, but please please please please know that I have read each and every comment and knowing I have such great friends, many of whom feel the same way as me, has been a great inspiration in a week I have felt very very very alone.

So today is most definitely the worst day I’ve had in the last few years and I’m not sure I can even tell you why.  I don’t even understand why.  It started with my wife, last night, complaining how I hadn’t done her laundry.  It was in a suitcase, in the garage and I didn’t even know it was there.  To her it felt a bit intentional.  To me, it felt like she should shut the fuck up.

Right, so here’s where it gets tricky because I’ve had this internal rule, based on a desire for a stable home life, that I don’t write about my home life that much nor about my wife at all.  It’s not like she’d know because it’s not like she ever reads anything I write.  But if I’m sensational enough I’m certain it would get back to her since most of my readership, about about 95% of people who have ever commented, are friends with her as well.  And 24 hours later, her and I are at peace with one another.  So what’s there to blog about?

Well, let’s review. 

I threw the dog half-way across the yard.  He actually literally shit himself in midair  (I threw a dog from our porch and saw the shit land separately from the dog).  I pulled the indoor door handle off the our truck, I pulled it closed so quickly (in anger).  That’ll cost us hundreds of dollars I’m sure. I destroyed one of our lamps by throwing it on the floor and jumping on it.  Then I took pleasure in bending it into smaller pieces so I could fit it into the trash.  I screamed  (and I mean screamed, beatles and bieber fans had nothing on me) at the top of my lungs at Nathan to shut the fuck up (I had put him in the crib, with a soother, and did not go near him.  I might be a horrible person at times, but at least, today, I knew when I needed to remove myself from my son)

Step 1: Disprove evolution with peanut butter

Step 2: Prove evolution with the help of bees

Step 3: Think “Oh my god, how are we not dead already?” Like, is someone putting stupidity in the water these days?

When we let corporations do the cooking, they’re bound to go heavy on sugar, fat and salt; these are three tastes we’re hard-wired to like, which happen to be dirt cheap to add and do a good job masking the shortcomings of processed food. And if you make special-occasion foods cheap and easy enough to eat every day, we will eat them every day. The time and work involved in cooking, as well as the delay in gratification built into the process, served as an important check on our appetite. Now that check is gone, and we’re struggling to deal with the consequences.

~ Some guy I’m becoming a huge fan of (article gets good, imho, around part 5)

So I’m going to violate all sorts of internal rules and just type, and then post.  Taking inspiration from my friend Cliff, who blogs like its going out of style.  And my friend Chad, who tends to blog about something a bit obscure (World Of Warcraft) and because he talks about his own experiences and doesn’t preach, make the subject fascinating.  I’ve known FoW’s next “theme” for quite a while now but haven’t had time to write at the level of sophistication as when I had a different job (case in point: missing is the blog entry where I quit being a programmer and started being a full time dad)

Food.

I’m starting backwards.  Really I should start telling you about Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution.  But that was soooo three months ago, now I’m all fired up about the last four hours I spent reading Michael Pollan’s random articles.  Except why should I talk about that when, amazing as they are, I should post a book review about In Defense of Food first, as that’s how I first encountered his life-changing prose.  God Dammit, will I ever get to my point?

Food.

Well, if this was a book, or an essay, I suppose I’d start with a paragraph or seven outlining what you might expect to encounter in subsequent entries (though I make no such promises; I’m bad at fulfilling promises).  Don’t click those links, I’m just being thorough.  I’ll get to my point, promise, starting on the next sentence.

Food.

I’m going to spend the rest of my life eating it (or, if I’m not careful, scientifically formulated imitations thereof).  Approximately three times per day.  And until a few months ago I didn’t give a rats ass what I was ingesting.  I had preferences and I knew which nutrients I should avoid (fat, or possibly carbohydrates, or protein? fuck, I’m confused again) but really, I was happy to eat whatever the restaurant, or my wife, or my mother, or whoever, put in front of me.  Jamie Oliver crusaded to improve school lunches first in the U.K. and more recently in America; I caught the TV show (I highly recommend torrenting episodes 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 & 6) and it has inspired me.

I desire to avoid processed foods of all types.  I want to reclaim the family meal.  I want to cook healthy whole meals for my family, friends and anyone else who wanders through my kitchen.  I have resolved to try to be a better cook.  But I’m just a beginner.  Sometimes beginners spend their passion preaching instead of practicing and none of you want to hear me tell you how to eat or what to eat.  And if I ever veer into that territory then I’m sorry because all I want to do is share with you a piece of my life that excites me.  And should I stray, please bitch slap me in the comments.  Seriously, I am a pretentious ass some days so feel free to knock me down a peg any time it seems appropriate

My mother raised me just fine, cooking meals from scratch, passed down by her mother and her mother before.  She taught me to cook and I made meals from scratch; I moved away and forgot it all as quickly as possible.  Now I wish so badly that it had played out differently.  I’ve bought four cookbooks in the last five months and all because I’m craving desperately to reclaim something.  I could spend a hundred thousand words trying to capture what that is, but I don’t yet have a simple phrase to encapsulate it… if I knew what it was, I’d have it already.  But I have the scent.  I know the direction I want to move.  And I want to take my family with me.  And you, even if just a voyeur. 

I want to change my life.  I want to change my food.  I want to eat fresh ingredients, I want to make tasty meals, I don’t particularly want to blog recipies (though I might one day) because that’s as boring as an ikea assembly manual.  Yet I do want to share this amazing treasure I’ve found.  The idea that I can opt out of a system that is selling me bread that thirty years ago would’ve, by law, been required to label itself as imitation bread (at least in the U.S.) 

Notice that I haven’t hyperlinked anything in three paragraphs?  Also, it’s 8 minutes past my absolutely must click publish self-imposed deadline and I haven’t event done the bare minimum of CSS-styling.  Time to end this post then.  Please, do me a favour.  I mean, please, I’m begging you: kick my ass.  If I haven’t posted in a week then demand I surrender the domain name.  The universe didn’t open itself up to me for shits & giggles.  Let’s see what I have to say next.  Until then I’ll leave you with somebody else’s words:

“Easy. You want Americans to eat less? I have the diet for you. It’s short, and it’s simple. Here’s my diet plan: Cook it yourself. That’s it. Eat anything you want — just as long as you’re willing to cook it yourself.”

~ Same article, quoting someone else

A muppetized version of Dr. Chang explains Lost

Obvious: clicking links leads to spoilers

Are you watching Lost?  Yeah, me too.  Their final season is a kick ass smörgåsbord of callbacks, answers, drama, gun fights, explosions, tears, jears, mindfucks and further mysteries.  And So. Much. More.  The only reason Fo W   hasn’t been filled with everything Lost since the debut is, well, frankly I don’t have enough time to contribute more than what you can already find on the intertubes in terms of in-depth analysis and fun shit.

But! In case you haven’t already stumbled upon Lost Untangled, I cannot recommend it highly enough.  It’s boxed in the stupid web-only kind of player I hate, each clip proceed by an advertisement for Windows 7 and it doesn’t matter because this shit is off the hook.  Each sixth season episode is recapped by a muppet (for no discernable reason).  The kind of muppet who has spent the last year huffing glue, locked in his apartment/shrine to Lost, watching nothing but the show and assembling the most hilarious 3 minute-ish recaps.  Watch This Shit Now!  It was when he put Locke’s life story to a rap song (not a recap, just random awesomeness) that I realized I absolutely must throw this shit out into the internets.

“Fuck you. You’ve never accomplished anything worthwhile. Hit yourself in the head. You are a coward. Why don’t you try to improve yourself? Don’t try anything. The world is going to hell and you need to fix it. You have no friends. Just sit and watch more TV. Someone else would do this better than you. Smoke cigarettes. You’re wasting your talent. Surf the internet instead. There is too little payoff for the insane amount of work you will have to put in. It’s too hard. Your art sucks. If you keep smoking you’ll die. You talk too much. You’re bald, but not in a nice Picard way. You’re destroying the environment. Do you know how many things you’ve left uncompleted? Cut yourself with a knife. You’re falling behind. You’re sexually inadequate. Let’s think everything through before making a decision. You fail to do anything you put your mind to. They’re laughing at you. You’re a bad friend. Nobody is reading what you write. You’re too tired to do anything meaningful. You have Aspergers Syndrome. Why can’t you understand? It’s stupid so don’t do it. If they know the real you, they won’t like it. Now that you’ve identified the necessary steps, completing it is too boring. You are so derivative. Why don’t you tell someone how you feel? Don’t tell anyone anything, they won’t understand. You look ugly. You have cancer, probably in your stomach, you just don’t know it yet. You will never be a success. They’re going to fire you. Smoke all the weed. You’re worthless. You don’t actually feel anything. No one supports you. It’s unoriginal. Smoke crystal meth. You are alone. Drink Drink Drink Drink. Society is organized the wrong way. Why do you keep sabotaging yourself? You have no faith in yourself. Don’t finish what you started, give up on it. This is not a good time to start. It’s too much work. Your skills as a programmer have deteriorated so badly you will never find another job. You’re permanently damaged goods. You will fail if you try. You are not worth loving. You don’t like anybody. Your wife will leave you. Everyone’s going to laugh at you. You are unmanly. Kill yourself. Drink and drive. I hate you. You’re depressed. Nobody likes you. That’s too hard. You’re too much like your Mom. You’re too much like your Dad. Your dreams are unachievable. Shut up. You can’t write. You haven’t really changed ever. If you keep drinking you’ll die. You’re stupid. Life is miserable. Procrastinate instead. No one understands or cares what you are saying. What’s the point anyway? If you don’t succeed you’re worthless. Nobody cares about you or what you have to say. You’ve already done that, it’s repetitive. Don’t go to sleep. You’re a horrible parent. You aren’t participating in the conversation the right way. You’re doing it wrong. Cut off all your fingers with a knife. Quit. You’re overweight. Do something easier. Don’t even try.”

Has it been one of those days? Even that third breakfast beer doesn’t seem to be helping? Rectal stretching just not giving you the kind of joy it used to? Wishing you hadn’t traded your last chunk of meth for that fraggle rock thermos? Sound’s like you need a pick-me-up. Oh, I dunno… something like Violent Aggression vs. Decency podcast #6 perhaps?

• Liam completely fails at introducing himself. For minutes on end Liam makes a complete fool of himself. All you had to do was say your name… how hard was that task?!
• John Crier, that fucking asshole, is roasted in a verbal spit, the fires of our collective hatred of him burn brightly
• Today’s questions include: Where is the best place to go “parking” in Edmonton? Is there a gayer scene than top gun’s volleyball scene? Why was Liam’s daughter was punching him as hard as she could?
• The good ol’ days of pc speaker sound are romanticized and some favourite games are discussed… until the Ride of the Valkyries starts playing and we turn it into some sort of impromptu communist revolutionary drama
• Vlad and Kim buy a ladder. The merits of its length, girth and other euphemisms are discussed
• I mourns the loss of the Silk Pie at Denny’s and this leads into… well… almost certainly the most offensive bit of improve we’ve ever done. It’ll either make you unsubscribe from the podcast or tell at least one person the next day you aren’t going to believe what I just listened to. Nope, no hints, you gotta listen all the way to the end to understand what I’m talking about (you could skip to the end… but most people will appreciate the foreplay)
  • By the way… you can read the letter I sent to Denny’s, if that's the sort of thing you're into

The Violent Aggression crew take aim at Decency and it’s Decency that was walking bow-legged the next day. Enjoy! Complaints and Questions can be directed to bow.legged@violentaggression.com Fire away and we might read your mail on a future podcast.

All questions sumbitted become the propery of small laundromat business in southern Wales

Let us start by saying that I am both the penultimate Denny’s consumer and advocate. Far enough in the past, you may find that I frequented the competitive chain of Humpty’s - long live the egg. But a history of bad hiring practices as well as lapses in quality gave my friends and I reason to experiment - which led us to you.. The Retard! Denny himself.

And what did we find once we began frequenting your find establishment? Nothing but excellent food and the finest staff in all of the Canadian continent. Truly, nothing could improve the Denny’s chain.

But woe was us, for believing that this state of affairs could continue indefinitely. After over two years of constant frequentation, I discovered a flaw in you marvellous restaurant.

10 Life is Good
20 Life is Bad
30 Goto 10

My father-in-law, Ken Melnichuk, passed away this last weekend; he was sixty four.

Ken, we will all miss you so so much.  You were taken far too soon.  I was so looking forward to spending more time with you.  To go hunting with you and Curtis again.  To hearing more of your dirty and racist jokes while we shared a drink out in the garage.  To listening to you go on and on and on about crazy good deals you once got, or about that guy who tried to screw you over, but you got him first, or the correct way to fix a television set or how to invest money, or anything really.  I wish you were still here with us today, but you’re not.  You’ve left this earth, and I wish you peace on your journey to whatever happens next.

I’m glad I had the chance to know you.  We shared some drinks, and I’ve stole some of your old cigarettes and smoked them, so now I can say we’ve shared a smoke too.  We had some good conversations.  You raised my wife and my brother from another mother.  Without you, my life would be less rich.  Thank you.  I’ll miss you Ken.

Ken is survived by his wife Thelma, his children Janine (married to James) Keller and Curtis (married to Jen) Melnichuk.  He is also survived by his sister, Marcia Melnichuk.  Ken was predeceased by his parents James and Katherine of Myrnam, Alberta.  There will be a service for him on Thursday Dec 17 at 1:30 pm at Memories Funeral Home, 13403 St. Albert Trail

                               Some pictures of the truck

Curator's Note: This was written shortly after a car accident from my iPhone, while waiting for the police to arrive. A passing motorist had taken my wife, baby and dog away from the crash to the safety of her mother’s. (And I only corrected one spelling mistake for required clarity, the rest is as-is.  I’m a professional, baby)

I was driving on the Whitemud, going over Cornell bridge. I hit some ice or something. I spun out and headed for the railing of the bridge. Janine was screaming like crazy. I could not make the truck go the way I wanted it to.

I pictured going over into the water. I didn't have any reaction to this. I was just visualizing what was likely to happen next. Janine was screaming. We hit the side of the bridge railing and thank God we bounced off, back into traffic. Now 180 degrees the wrong direction. I hit a jeep. We kept spinning until we rested 270 degrees from our original direction.

Traffic slowed around us. I got out and grabbed Nathan from his car seat. Janine had grabbed the dog. We swapped. A woman stopped her car so we could sit in it so Nathan wouldn't be cold

the fireman showed up and told us to move our vehicles. All the other drivers are so rude to us. Swearing at us to get the fuck off the road and stopp delaying their commute. I almost drove off a bridge today with my entire family in the truck. Fuck you back, I believe your Christmas shopping trip can be delayed due to traffic.

That was isanely fucking scary. I am so thankful everyone is alive and okay. I wonder if the cops will gethere soon

That's awesome. How can that show not work? I need to see that show.

We’re back. Sorry it’s been so long. Life has been keeping me busy in other ways. I’ve insulated and drywalled a garage, cared for sick family, done some fun multi-threaded programming at work, watched The Prisoner (fantastic rewarding television viewing), watched bsg: The Plan (a horrible boring affair), tried and failed in my novel via NaNoWriMo (thanks to Liam for plenty of encouragement), and generally engaged in life.

But enough about me, what’s the gang up to this week? (or rather, about three months ago)

• We provide a story, involving a certain candy. We maintain we are not racists.
• A set of unpaid bills at a company cause James to go on a auditory rampage (sorry folks, he drinks a lot).
• Liam breaks down Elizabeth Town, which leads us to view an incredibly disturbing image. Do not click the link I am about to share unless you’ve listened to the podcast and know what you’re in for. Here is what we saw.
• Grammer geekdome: Do you know period goes inside the hyperlink only if the entire sentence is a link. At least that’s what these guys figure. I agree. This isn’t part of the podcast, I just wanted to mention that. The podcast is much more interesting.
• For instance, Shaun and Lindsay get drunk and sleeps in their car (in Scotland, at the time).
• This other time, Vlad’s job as Relationship Fluffer is discussed.
• All this and more on the latest instalment of Violent Aggression