As the detainees trickle out of Guantanamo one by one back into the world that they were ripped from more than a half a dozen years ago, we had better prepare ourselves for some real life horror stories. Some of these men will be pushed back into society after years of torture without having ever been charged with anything. This will be the stuff that keeps you up at night and makes you feel sickly feverish. It will make you feel this way because it’s real.

And it was all government sanctioned.

And we will never get to see Cheney & Bush on trail at The Hague.

Gone are the days of lounging on a sun soaked patio, ridiculous looking fruity beverage in one hand, and stinky but oh-so-delicious death stick burning away in the other. In fact, even the days of huddling miserably under a restaurant front awning while jogging on the spot to keep warm are gone. To everyone out there without a swanky back patio and a bar equipped home, it’s probably a bit unsettling- though to be truthful, I find almost everything about smoking more than a little unsettling. To the best of my knowledge, it is the only product on the market today that will not be pulled from store shelves, even though the whole of humanity knows that they’re packed full of toxic chemicals. Not just “kinda bad for you” like too many doughnuts, but actually produced with poisons as ingredients. Unlike any other product that comes to mind, the powers that be have chosen to tax this death stick, rather than force the tobacco companies to alter their recipes to exclude all of those little gems like arsenic, or formaldehyde. I know some of you are thinking that booze falls into this same category, but I disagree. Hops, barley, corn mash, fermented grapes…… no where in the list of ingredients on the icy cold bottle of Alexander Keith’s that I am holding right now do I see the words “hydrogen cyanide” or “ammonia”. Of course, consumed with excess, alcohol can be the cause of some devastating consequences, but then again, so can almost anything that is abused. Point being, though certain things should be handled with caution, they’re still not made out of POISON! Don’t misunderstand me, cigarettes and I have had a long and intimate relationship. We have faced many perils together, and in my darkest hours, it was always that smiling “Export A” gold woman in the weird hat and kilt that held my hand. (more…)

Dear Mr. Obama,

Welcome to Canada! We’re glad to have you. I would like to apologizes to you for all of the whiny Canadians who are disgruntled that you aren’t staying long enough to attend a grand ball or two. Some people have forgotten that you currently have a lot of shit on your plate and not much time for the schmooze. I for one would like to thank you for not turning your visit into a stupid and overpriced red carpet event. I would also like to thank you for wining the election. Thank fuck on a stick that you did.

In closing, this humble Canadian would like to make a couple of small requests for your trip to our beautiful land. Could you please bitch slap Harper while you’re here? Nothing public mind you, just a private reminder that we need him to stop acting like a fucking king and start acting like a Prime Minister. Also, if possible, could you please rethink the protectionism issue and when you have a chance, tell your people that Canadians don’t really finish every sentence with the word “Eh?”

Thank you,

Kim

There has been quite the uproar about the new “terms of service” and their assertions that it’s ok that they own your content forever because we can trust Mark Zuckerberg. (Insert basket of kittens and dancing unicorns here) Well, I feel better now. Do you? The brouhaha is of course centered around the fact that Team Facebook can use your content in any way they choose, even long after you’ve deleted your profile, because they own it. Obviously, people went a little batshit when they found that out and Facebook did some speedy back peddling after they realized exactly how much shit was hitting their fan.

Now, I can’t possibly fathom a case where they would want random pictures of yours truly so, though I’m bothered by it, I’m not exactly panicking that my face will appear on billboards in New York selling Facebook sponsored diet pills or endorsing a sleezeball singles site. However, it does pose an interesting question; what about people who make their blog post available through Crackbook? Or the huge amount of recording artists and actors whose images are closely tied to their way of making a living? Matt Good is my friend on Facebook (Yeah, we hang out, best buds, go way back, lie, lie, lie.) and he has a great deal of content on his profile that is relevant to his career. The new wording of the “terms of service” implied that Facebook could pull those concert pictures, lyrics, etc at will and do whatever they damn well please with them…..forever.

I think they changed their position back to the “old” terms of service knowing full well that the number of users, particularly those in the public eye, would start dropping off en masse. I’m sure they’re in their secret mountain laboratory right now coming up with better wording to cover up their plot to take over the world. This grand scheme will of course be “endorsed” by multitudes of  smiling celebrities whose photos are pulled from Facebook profiles without the need to bother with the annoying step of permission.

So in future, Facebook friends, read the fine print.

The city of Vancouver has taken over the 700 MILLION DOLLAR loan to get that ridiculous Olympic village built. The only redeeming feature of said ridiculous over priced village is that portions were to be designated to social housing. Trust me, Vancouver needs social housing a lot more than it needs the fucking Olympics.

Needless to say, I was more than a little pissed after reading this article. Let me quote the last line for you (as I shake my head in absolute fucking wonderment.)

“The city recently announced it may have to reduce the number of social housing units planned for the project in order to cut costs.”

unfuckingbelievable.

I already know that I dream in both colour and in black and white. I always have. Most of my dreams, including my recurring one are in black and white, or to be more precise, they are grey. Everything from h2 pencil to gunmetal grey, and all of the unexciting shades in between.

Except when there’s blood.

If there is blood involved, I dream in vivid, almost painful colours. That blinding shade of green reminiscent of “WHAM”, a sickly sweet bubble gum pink or an electric orange that would make any Dutch soccer football fan proud. If someone is going to die in a violent bloody way while I’m sleeping, my brain drops a hit of acid and becomes one of those annoying fruitopia commercials, with “death splatter red” taking center stage.

Last night I was simmering a big old pot of homemade split pea soup. After days of taunting me, it will finally be ready for tonight. Last night, or actually, really freaking early this morning, I woke in a panic. In my dream, Steve and I were sleeping soundly while the forgotten pot of soup bubbled dangerously through the night. The whole house was thick with the smell of burning soup and I’m sure that though unconscious, I was wrinkling my nose against it’s overpowering aroma. I got up under the impression that we were all about to go up in flames. Death by pea soup.

Of course I hadn’t left it on. The house smelled exactly as it normally does which, though hard to define, is pleasant and definitely not anything resembling burning pea soup. So the point of this little ditty? Just like the title says, apparently I dream in smell too.

There are so many things I miss about living in downtown Vancouver- the ease at which I could get places, thick Lebanese coffee & fathe at Habibi’s on Broadway, Paper Haus on Granville, Vj’s on 14th and the guy who would walk around my neighborhood randomly singing the most beautiful opera at the top of his lungs. I miss Ming Wo, the falafal stand by the bus stop, beers on the patio while people watching and buying fresh flowers 10 feet from my door. I like the town I’m in- I like it a lot in fact, but there are days that I miss a certain something from my old stomping grounds.

And then there are the days that I don’t miss it. Not even a tiny little bit.

How have things gotten so out of fucking control that the CBC actually has an “interactive homicide map” for 2009?

WTF?