A man walks up to a sculpter, after having admired his work, asks him, "How did you get the biblical character Job to form from a giant piece of marble?? It's fantastic!"


The sculpter responds to the man, "Everyday I simply chip away at everything that is not Job, and eventually over time, Job emerges."


Being chipped away at probably didn't feel very good, but submitting to the sculpter, as the rock did, allowed the rock to be transformed into the masterpiece the sculpter envisioned and planned for from the beginning.

BC: Your province is sooo polluted.
Ontario: Oh yea? Well your province is sooo in debt!


Ontario: Why don't you go home and eat granola?
BC: Thanks, I will. Atleast our choices are healthy.


BC: Which polititian is making a mochery of our system today?
Onatrio: Uhh... Who's on strike today?


Ontario: Why did the government appoint n candidates from BC? Clearly that is not proportoinal representation.
BC: Remind me again how Onatrio is "central" Canada.


As you can see, I take neither side. This provice has some perks that some people would say are exclusive to my own benefit. And so be it. Once then, that I and my perks are no longer contained within this province, perhaps my appreciation will shift again.


WEeeeeeEEEEeeE!

I start work at Minacs, bilingual technical support for Macintosh Computers of Peterborough, Ontario, Monday, August 18, 2006, at 9:00am.


I need a new tranny in my car, and a trailer hitch so I can rent a trailer to haul all my stuff. Anyone wanna buy a '97 Honda CBR 600?


I will for sure see all of you soon; I will definetly be at Summit September of '07.


...Whoa...

You catch only but a glimpse of his behind high-tailing it. He is out.


You may have seen him, standing vulnerably in the spot light, under the street lamp. He may have been selling things, or handing out flyers, or taking a survey. He might have been friendly, or overbearing in someone's personal space, but didn't hurt anybody. He probably wasn't selling drugs.


But still he runs off, like a deer who hears the shot of a gun, tail up and into the thicket, or in this case, into the shadow. Is it more intriguing that he should continue his work from the privacy of the shaddow? Or is it more disturbing. You can't see his face anymore, nothing from him to reveal himself, his character, his intentions. Is he still the same vulnerable man he was before?


But in this exact moment, he is running, paused in a second of the mind; hair flopping, leg jiggling, shirt wind-flapping; running. From here, you can't see what's on his mind. You don't know what's startled him, what has caused this decision to move.


You do, however, know this: he is the same man, with inhibitions, dreams, worries, cares, fears and loves, all of his own. In this glimpse of running, you can't possibly know why he's running, or who he is. He's just running. Go and find out why, if you care so much.

Have you ever noticed that the letters of a keyboard are placed in a slightly strange manner? I mean, isn't it odd that they would seperate some letters, like A and B but not J, K or L. And why put Q, W, E, R, T, and Y together. I'll bet someone thought they were clever when they called it the "QWERTY keyboard". But I have news for you, they weren't. They were probably some jackass military type, always making wandering chatter about the war and never coming to his point. It's like a man with a club swinging at a bush because there's an animal in there, but he'll never go into the bush to hit the animal, and he won't go away to make the animal come out. Those military types need good wives to keep 'em in order. The kind of wives who are quick-witted and always seem to be one step ahead of him, making snappy retorts and usually have shrill voices. They might work at a Pharmasave or something, where the customers would come in and heckle for bargains, but it's not Bargain Basement, who do they think they are? You can tell them over and over and over again that you can't do anything about the price, and it's not your fault the store is out of stock, but they keep pestering. I'd like to shoot those with a gun, a 9mm perhaps. I imagine the best kind of gun though, for a crowd of these hecklin' folks is a gataling gun, lots of bullets very quickly and lots of screaming--that you can't hear because the gun is so loud. Speaking of loud, I should have my ears checked because I am hearing weird things, and not hearing other things. For example, I seem to always miss the pastor telling me to wash the windows.


Oh my, how I've rambled. I feel age comin' on.

"ech·o
n. pl. ech·oes

Repetition of a sound by reflection of sound waves from a surface.
The sound produced in this manner.
A repetition or an imitation: a fashion that is an echo of an earlier style.
A remnant or vestige: found echoes of past civilizations while examining artifacts in the Middle East.
One who imitates another, as in opinions, speech, or dress.
A sympathetic response: Their demand for justice found an echo in communities across the nation.
A consequence or repercussion: Her resignation had echoes throughout the department.
Repetition of certain sounds or syllables in poetry, as in echo verse.
Music. Soft repetition of a note or phrase.
Electronics. A reflected wave received by a radio or radar." source

" 'a duck's quack doesn't echo, and no one knows why'
actually it does echo, but the sound wave for both the initial quack and the secondary sound caused by the echo are so close they can not be sorted out without the use of sophisticated audio equipment. (Thanks to Mythbusters on the Discovery Channel for wasted production time on this one!)" source


"University of Maryland scientists say echo-locating bats use a strategy to track and catch insects that's similar to a guided missile's tracking system." source


"The largest generation of young people since the '60s is beginning to come of age. They're called 'echo boomers' because they're the genetic offspring and demographic echo of their parents, the baby boomers.

Born between 1982 and 1995, there are nearly 80 million of them, and they're already having a huge impact on entire segments of the economy."source


"Filtering out useless information can help people increase their capacity to remember what is really important, researchers said on Wednesday." source

If you send someone 'Styrofoam', how do you pack it?

Today I received thirteen pieces of junk e-mail. They include one that says, "13 ways to increase your _____". On a scale of one to ten, that's a thirteen for making me angry.

On a totally seperate note, there are thirteen reasons why one should not be hasty to resolve at twelve, and not too slow to resolve at fourteen. I don't know what these reasons are, however, consider this: thirteen apes jump thirteen stories to thirteen bloody deaths.

Thirteen.

Thirteen, thirteen.