An Open Letter To Bent Handstyle

Sir Bent Handstyle,

I am inclined to respond to your comments regarding the type of currency to which I will be paid. I will have you know that I do not respond formally to every comment that passes because I receive many. If I was to take my time, which is short, to respond to every comment I would surely get nothing done. But I will respond to your comment Bent Handstyle because I believe there is some positive interest at the core of your declaration.

When I told you that I would only accept Gil as tender for my raise you refused my demands and forced some other foreign currency you believed to be acceptable in this matter. Since you provide no evidence for the refusal of my demands I am left to make assumptions. One of my assumptions is you do not understand how important Gil is.

Bent Handstyle I feel you would have me believe the following:

1) Final Fantasy is a bad game
2) Farming Gil is too easy and less valuable than farming second life currency
3) Stealing items from battles is more effective than destroying enemies for items

These are a few points from your doctrine I feel you would have me believe. It is from this doctrine that I gather my assumption of your ignorance to the importance of Gil. Furthermore, it is from this doctrine that I take my stance; I disagree.

Earlier I said there may be some positive interest in your behaviour, I still believe this to be true in nature so I will provide the facts of life. Maybe you thought Second Life Money would help me more, it wont. Maybe you felt cake is something I want whether virtual or real, I am lactose intolerant. Finally you could have theorized a wedding is something I wish for, presently I could care less.

The situation we find ourselves in reminds me of a story;

"A dog ran around barking; it made no sense."

You are this dog Bent Handstyle. So I will repeat my command. Bent Handstyle, again, I request that my raise be paid in full through the currency of Gil.

Homeboys In Space

How do Canadian strip clubs work? Do I trade my 5 dollar bills for stripper bucks? Because to me five bucks means I better be getting five shows, so that's five songs, five minutes each. If that is asking too much then we need to really think about shutting this industry down. Or at least get the government to subsidize some of the cost. Eliminating the 2 dollar bill was a ridiculous idea and is pretty much price fixing if you ask me.

But enough about my problems in the sandcastles of the north. As a CmoG member I feel the need to spread knowledge or at least what I think is ultimately important.

One day my friend lowered his head and said; "Everyone is afraid of explosions." Which is true every time you tinker with some electrical device you fear it could explode in your hands. Or when you install a new piece of free-ware you wait for the blue screen of death to confirm your stupidity. Well I have good news, you are not stupid and explosions rarely happen.

Under the latter conditions we can move to the former. Friendly Racism.

It's a problem that effects millions of friends worldwide yet till this day the symptoms go untreated. Friendly racism starts with innocent questions like; "what does bumbclat mean?" and "What is curry made of?" (<----hilarious question by the way) To more intrusive and blatantly fatuous inquires like; "So why do you like watermelon so much?" and "What is the colour of a black vagina?"

Friendly racism would be fine if it was only questions. Actually what makes friendly racism so incendiary is the assumption that being able to ask racist questions entitles the questioner to a volume of racists jokes. As if the innocence in the questioning transcends that moment and turns into a membership to all things racists. I imagine a member of this group surfs the Internet wildly, typing with no regard, words they only dreamt of saying. Looking for the most relevant racists jokes to share with their urban, Asian, and brown friends.

If you as a human being want friendly racism to stop you have to start with one friend at a time. May I suggest pulling one of the friendly racist to the side and turning on the TV. Try to watch some BET or go to the Internet and find some old UPN sitcoms. Sit down with your friendly racist and make fun of those people because they are the joke. Let your friendly racists know that its not alright to make jokes of old stereotypes unless the people you are joking about are living those stereotypes to the fullest.

Sweaty Gym Shorts

I used to think I loved the idea of 3D. Then I saw Avatar. Now my eyes hurt.

I understand the appeal of going to see a movie and being able to look right into the screen to see a new and dangerously blue world but the idea is just too ambitious at this point.

First off, I still can't get over walking into a movie theatre and seeing hundreds of doofuses clad in ray-banesque 3D shades, the same shades that, while providing a somewhat more detailed and depthy (yes I know I'm making up a lot of words here) image, also dim the brightness of the picture, thus significantly reducing overall viewing quality.

Long story short, THAT SUCKS BALLS.

Avatar is a pretty cool movie, I've seen it twice but honestly, 2D was better.

Every played Castlevania for PS1? Fuck that's a good game.

What is happening to the world. How can I have an opinion about anything these days? The Grammys? The movie adaptation of The Lovely Bones? The weather?

SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHITTY!!! ALL SHITTY!!! But everyone already knows that. I'm trying to be a trailblazer here, a visionary. What can I say that hasn't already been said? What can I say differently that already has been said? Should I just plagiarize everything from now on? Seeing as I'm not in school I can't get penalized anymore. Maybe all my posts should just be song lyrics from here on out. Sometimes I even forget things that I've already said!

Have I ever asked you what your favourite song is? Or what you want to be when you grow up?

I want to be dead, that's my goal. Dead and famous.

Like: YAY KID!!! HAPPY 33rd BIRTHDAY!!!

*BANG*

There will be some guy named Desmond or Ezio or Altair or something ludicrous like that who will pop out of the cake and shoot me right in the heart.

Assassinated.

Only really special people get assassinated. Most people just get murdered. If you're a Telemarketer and you get shot with a sniper rifle without you knowing, are you assassinated?

I think it also changes depending on what kills you.

Can you be assassinated with a grenade? What about throwing knives or a Javelin?

Real confusing stuff...

Blunt Notes For Hire

The other day I was doing some free form modern dance. Pretty much rocked the house. Then I started thinking about style. I was all like what is style you know getting real deep and shit. The cynical side of me wanted to say style is a word people use to wear torn jeans. Staying with that warm fuzzy feeling I thought I should add expensive jeans in there too. I wanted to add pencil jeans in as another example of style as an excuse, but before I could, I laughed myself into a nap.

Jesus wore a robe, that shit was dope. You know what else was dope back then, hating gentiles. So the robe is out and the gentiles are free, and the question remains. What is style?

If I had to take my finger and shove it in style's face and be like "you fucking guy." I would say style is a translucent puzzle. Each piece is a tiny piece but there are so many pieces you can make a new bigger piece and a medium piece and subset pieces congruent to the original piece without losing any pieces. Am I saying there are no new ideas, yes, yes I am. If you look at jeans in general there still isn't an adequate way to store things in them and not ruin them. Therefore there are no new ideas. However, if there are all these little pieces that make up a style then technically everyone has there own style. I know there is a cult claiming that we all dress the same, making it sound like the stylish are unstylie. This cult will have you believe your shoes are unstylie because people want them. If you let them, this cult, will severe your connection with reality forcing you to see a uniform that isn't there. This cult is wrong and secretly they want your pieces.

Style is translucent because style is about the subject underneath the costume, design, sound, taste. It is hard to see past the style but you can if you take a good look.

I am not saying everything is a style but most things are. You know what I mean? Or should I explain that some more?

You can't like the style of anything because style isn't any one thing. A lot of times people say they like the style of a movie or book or something. They are basically saying they liked the devices the creator used. I think liking someones style is as pretentious as liking someones life. Just finish the sentence tell someone you like their torn jeans, or their postmodern neo beatbox, or their roman impressionist architecture, or their rustic bourgeoisie French menu. That sounds so much nicer and less pretentious than "I like your style."

If I had to define my style it would be 3rd generation superfreak sans 80's contemporary flare with a smooth finish and rose wood undertones.

Say it Like You Mean it

Alexander Graham Bell invented the phone sometime before I was born, and the world hasn’t been the same ever since. Someone invented the current rendition of the cellular phone after I was born and I like that invention better because it let’s me talk wherever I want.

However, the corded phone while many speculate is on it’s last legs, still has a strong base in family homes and in offices. And it is the latter I would like to discuss with you now.

After graduating or being exonerated for a felony and being hired by a reputable company there are many things one must learn to be successful in corporate Canada. Which is like corporate America’s little sister: Cute, and you might flirt with it, but really that’s as far as you’re willing to take the relationship, I mean, c’mon you don’t flex up your buddy’s little sister. Anyway, to survive in an office scenario there are certain etiquettes that must be learned. E-mail etiquette, water cooler etiquette, walking by hello’s, stop and talks, polite jokes, etc. Among these are telephone etiquette and it’s just as important as anything else.

Because everyone in the office has a phone you must learn to use this tool better than your peers to increase your trade value among the league, I mean increase your worth in the company. Don’t even worry, I’ll clue you in on some of these. For arguments sake, I’m going to assume you need to close a deal, because what I’ve learned in obtaining my BCOMM, closing deals is what keeps rich people rich.

Don’t be afraid to yell on the phone. Nicholas Cage made an acting career of yelling on the phone and I see no reason why you shouldn’t be entitled to try your hand at is as well. Yell things like, “Do you know who I am?” Or, “Do you know who I represent!?” Or, “Do you not want to close this deal!?” This shows your GM, I mean boss, you’re in control of the conversation, and that you value the company you work for, and are unwilling to accept just any piss poor deal. Always remember you need to get value for your players.

Standing up while on the phone is a great way to increase your street cred. For very simple reasons. Standing up lets people see that you are closing deals. Most people are visual and if your boss sees you closing a deal, you will more likely get a contract extension than if he only heard you yelling. Now, there is a right and wrong way to do this. While standing up, keep one hand on your desk, this shows people you are anchored and haven’t forgotten why you’re on the phone. You do not want to give the image of just floating around on the phone. Standing up also gets other people around you excited. “Why is he standing up?” They’ll wonder. “He must be doing something right.” Some people will encourage you to stand up and yell while on the phone. I am firmly against this tactic. Yelling on the phone while standing up will grab all the attention in the room and let people know you’re an Alpha Male who won’t stoop below punching children to close a deal. Find these people at Jack Astor’s wearing power suits. You see it’s just the wrong image that’s being portrayed. It is simply too much, yelling while standing up is like watching too aggressive tasteless porn. You can’t help but wonder if all this is necessary.

Some things just make you feel dirty. Like farting while walking, and then smelling it, and then speeding up your walk to get away from it. Nobody needs to notice what you did for you to silently curse yourself under your breath, vowing never to do it again.

Stay alive, stay under the covers!

It's the cold.

You walk out of your house with a certain confidence, an optimism that says, "Hey, it's not that cold outside. Perhaps if I'm lucky I won't hate myself for living in Canada today." You trek onwards with warm hands, ears and nose. And as you walk, something makes itself present. It's a feeling that cannot be truly explained. It's essence remains a mystery to humanity even to this day. The cold.

This presence knows you, and you are also familiar with it. At first you might even welcome it in defiance, "Pffft, as if I would get cold on a day like today!" And the cold simply laughs back at you. It creeps up behind you, gliding easily under your feet. It explores your entire body, hoping, knowing that there will be a place where it can make itself known; an exposed neck, uncovered ears, the little gap between your sleeve and your jacket pocket.

And still you are in good spirits.

"I suppose it is a little chilly out here huh?"

Until any chance at relief is effectively eliminated. You know you will be cold and there is no way to avoid it. You give in. Your body becomes numb from the cold, unable to face the truth:

the cold will find you, the cold will inhabit your very being. Eventually, if you let it, the cold will fill every fibre of your being and you'll find yourself the spitting image of a delicious frozen treat, with little snot icicles dangling from your nose.

The cold needs you.

It lusts for every inch of your exposed skin. Jackets and things made of wool are its sworn enemy. The cold longs for you you so badly that when it finally makes its way through an open doorway or window, hot air leaves the room to make it less awkward for the two of you. And while the heat is still something that you can get too much of, we can complain about that when the summer comes around again.

Cold is that person that you can take in small doses, but when you are forced to spend time together, there is nothing you would rather do but run away. It can take several minutes for the tenacious grip of the cold to leave your body. Even in the careless company of a heated place, your fingers and toes still are the calculated minions of the cold, bringing shivers to anything you should touch.

We were never meant to be here. Human beings were not meant to live in these unbearable conditions. We don't have fur, or blubber. Or at least most of us don't, I'm sure there's a few of you out there.

Put a naked human being out in the ice and snow and certainly they will die. Fast.

The cold is starting to get to me.

This Aint Reality TV

We don't need to sit around and argue over who sucks. We all know the suckiest sucks that ever sucked aren't important. With that out of the way it's time to fly off. That's right suckas we can fly.

Here are a couple of awesome movies to remember

(Action)
Underworld 1 and 2
Terminator 2
Police Story
Hard Boiled

(Drama + Action)
Clockers
The Prestige
The Host
Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance
Sympathy for Lady Vengeance
Old Boy
Ronin

(Drama)
Basketball Diaries
Good Will Hunting
Boogie Nights
The Reader

(Horror)
Blair Witch Project
Saw series
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
30 Days of Night

There is no Comedy section because right now comedy is overrated. You don't believe me? really? Well then what happened to Jim Carey? Why did Eddie Murphy give a transexual prostitute a ride home? And what of Comedy's latest causality Will Farrel. I only hope you realize that comedy is a killer and not a saint. Poor Seth Rogan is only seconds away from death.

The rock I tried to break with my mind was strong. So I took my foot and stomped all over it. My shoe flew off, but it had done its job, under my white sock was a small pile of rubble. I sifted through the shards of rock looking for a piece that was the right size.

There was one piece with a rounded end and it looked small enough to fit my plans. Satisfied with my examination I hurried into phase one of my plan. I placed the smooth rounded part of the fragment into my nose where it fit snug into my nasal. I arched my neck back and sucked in some air with my mouth.

The second phase of my plan was the most important. I took aim and without provocation snorted out the pebble into a strangers face.

The stranger looked me over, possibly for a reason, I looked the stranger right back. He hesitated to say something and continued walking pass me. He accepted his defeat.

The fool! A younger person would either challenge me in kind or threaten physical harm. I was only a child and with the right tools I destroyed a man.

So I gathered more rocks and I cleaned my nose religiously.

Not Your Typical New Year's Post?

2009 was a bad year. And I’m not surprised, 2008 had a theme, it was two thousand hate and I toast myself for getting through it. I didn’t think I would make it. 2009 had no such theme, no plan, no punch, 2009 was simply a bridge year to 2010 and I am happy it is finally over, to be honest I wasn’t sure if I’d make it. 2010. I like it. It’s an aesthetically pleasing number. It’s concise and bold, futuristic yet simple, there’s a bit of intrigue in this number, it says, “The future has arrived.” And hasn’t it? Right now I can surf the web on my phone for an affordable price. Jump in my car and have it tell me how to get someplace I have never been. Publish video content on the world wide web for free and have millions of people access it from their phones. Okay so not all of this is new to 2010, but it’s the relative ease we accomplish them now. The sense of novelty is gone, and the sense of entitlement has arrived.

This world operates in cycles and in 2010 I think I’ve finally seen an entire one through. From being an advocate of the main culture in the late 90s, to finding a form of music that was routinely described as a type of subculture. To that subculture becoming main culture and then reverting back to subculture and main culture becoming this beast that I no longer fully understand. I suppose I would be fine for this and other like trends to continue for the remainder of my life, I find them slightly entertaining.

However our lives do not operate on the same seemingly infinite cycles of this world. Human lives can be easily measured linearly and 2010 marks a real end point in my linear life. Since I can remember I’ve been going to school. For as long as my memory serves I have transferred from one establishment to another all hell bent on making me learn things. Well that ends in 2010, now anything I want to learn will be how it should have been a long time ago: For free.

Yes, my esteemed compatriots some people like to end these New Year type articles saying they do not know what is in store for them over the next year. Label me omnipotent because I have a very concise view of what I expect out of this year. Money. That sounds strange coming from me, I think the greenback is more of a necessary evil than a thing that should be the goal of one’s life. But seriously, it’s time to get paid. Because when that’s out of the way I can focus my attentions of curing the sick, righting the wrongs, helping the needy, you know the jazz.

I have a confession to make. I missed New Years, and I don’t mean I missed it while dancing, watching a movie, talking with friends, or any of the other slightly acceptable, “I missed New Years!” horror stories. I suspect as the clock turned over and most people in the Eastern Standard Time Zone cheered, hooplahed, whopped, and screamed, I was in the bathroom washing my hands after a particularly good drunken pee. Perhaps this is foreshadowing, this year I plan on doing what a got to do, (after you take a pee you gotta wash your hands mang) and I don’t necessarily want or expect much fanfare for it. I’ll get all the fanfare I need 2012 when I save the world from the Mayan invasion.

I missed you

Writers block is the kind of thing that can ruin your life.

I'm forced to resort to just writing complete and utter gibberish to compensate for the lack of decent content in my brain. Perhaps it's distraction. Maybe you guys have just taken me to the point where the expectations for excellence are so high I'm afraid to even bother to post for fear of waking up at 3:21AM to find an angry mob with pitchforks outside my bedroom.

There are a lot of dirty dishes in my bedroom.

Ever solved a rubik's cube? Got one for christmas. Do you celebrate Christmas?

Of course you do. Prick.

Anyways, it takes an incredible amount of memorization more than anything. So far the easiest way to solve this 3 decade old puzzle is just dedicating the patterns of motion to memory. Yes 1980 was THREE decades ago.

So what's the new style? Is neon done? How bout zebra print tights?

I swear to god if I hear another line in a song from from some black dudes out of the Bay Area about how they wear skinny jeans I will retire to sweatpants and corduroy slacks till the day I die, which incidentally is in only 2 years, you gonna be ready for 2012?

Wish you lived in Baltimore? LA? Sydney? That feeling that you're part of something big.

How will we define our generation? Keffiyehs? Red Bull? Flunking out of College? Blu-Ray? Seriously?

On behalf of the CMO staff....