Thank You

Thank you for having to get this crash out of the way so everyone on every plane in the world (especially the ones flying them) will have the heebie-jeebies for months to come.

I feel like I dodged a bullet. Let's hope the "It happens in threes" rule doesn't apply.

I fly on an Asian Airline -- the one with the worst safety record -- 60th out of 60 -- of any airline flying today, on July 18th, all the way to Japan.

Wish me luck.

Oh, and by the way, that would have been MY footage of the crash you would be watching over and over again on CNN. I always video my takeoffs and landings.





(You can hear me vaguely above the jet roar saying first "We're awfully close to the mountains . . . I wonder if the pilot knows . . ." [we're nowhere near the mountains] and then in a high-pitched Indian accent "Ve are going to crash into the vater now  . . . ve are going to crash into the vater!") Trust me, you wouldn't want to fly with me.

Bird TV

Overrun

This blog has been officially taken over by a CAT

and

there is

NOTHING

I

can

DO

about it.

My Personal Steve

He's mine . . . and he watches over me.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. Buy overpriced computers.

Am I Insanely Great, or What?

Can't Wait for Bill to Join Me

That's Not a Polar Bear Rug -- That's Foam Core

Patraits

On Wednesday, my good friend and collaborator on this site (Ironman) drove in from Ottawa and we had a jolly time driving around. We made it to Atwater market, at which I went to Douceurs du Marché and spent a cringe-inducing $78 or so on a bottle of Frantoia olive oil and a bottle of truffle oil. What can I say? These things have to be done.

And afterwards we taxied over to L'Express to delight in what only L'Express can do -- the best steak-frites in North America. NOBODY does it better. Their rare (saignant) onglet (hanger) steak is just the beefiest beef in the world.

Don't be fooled by promises of "Kobé" beef (I've said it once, and I will say it again and again until my last dying breath: there is NO KOBÉ beef in North America and there never will be. Any restaurant that advertises Kobé ANYTHING is lying, lying, lying. Even the one that offer "Wagyu" beef are usually lying their hides off). The L'Express steak-frites is about the best steak you will ever enjoy, period.


Anyway, Patrick brought his Nikon rig and did me the honor of taking a couple of "portrait" shots of me, which is extremely rare, as I don't know anyone who is a friend and who lives in Montreal and who is a good photographer, so there are very few portraits of me anywhere.

Patrick took a couple of "Patraits" and I messed with them in Photoshop a bit and here they are, in no particular sequence (as usual, right click on them to open in a new window to get them at full resolution):

At L'Express

Half colored man

Monet man

Thank you, my good friend, for such wonderful records of yours truly. One day I shall return the favor except sans the Photoshop mucking about.

Whipped Cat

I can't believe this kitten actually likes the coffee-flavored whipped cream on the rim of my cup . . .

Catsformation

When Brigitte disappeared to Israel May 1 or so (to return July 2) poor ol' Nick got lonesome.

Lonesome enough to check out the pet ads and respond to one for kittens -- there was a black one that sounded really great. So I taxied all the way to Cartierville to pick up the little runt, only to find out that she was, like, only four weeks old.

For those who don't know cats, this is, like, WAY too young to take a kitten away from its mother. It needs at LEAST another month.

But I, being the "cat expert" I thought I was, took her anyway. I named her Pika, which means "flash" in Japanese.

Well, we already have a cat, Lulu, who is about 6 years old. And I quickly found myself overwhelmed. This little kitty was so young it would have to be fed with an eye dropper every four hours. And I was looking at a month of this. So I put an ad on a bulletin board and someone responded and came and picked up Pika that very night. Thank God for Sue!

So that, I thought, was that. I was actually in tears when I handed her over to her new owner.

But apparently, she thrived. I had asked Sue to keep me up to date with photos etc. and she did exactly that.

But then two days ago, I got a totally surprise email: Sue and her companions were going on a wilderness trek for a few weeks -- would I take Pika (whom they had renamed Madonna)?

Well, garsh, OF COURSE I would take her. Sue told me I was the only one she could trust -- that made me feel pretty good.

So now, as I type, there is a fuzzy little monster roaming the halls of this quiet house . . .

I wanted to document her for Brigitte, but she is AS BLACK AS A LUMP OF COAL and is almost impossible to film. All that shows up are her little beady yellow eyes. That used to be blue.

This morning I filmed her, and by coincidence, I was playing her with the same little USB cord that I was playing with her the first time I filmed her -- almost two months ago.

So, here you see two visions of the same cat, in the same location, playing with the same thing just two months apart. Note how her eyes are BLUE in the first video and YELLOW in the second (it's not easy to see, but you can go here to see ol' Blue Eyes) . . .