Ever heard of Improv Everywhere? They’re a group that organizes huge, harmless public pranks that they document as a kind of comedic performance art piece. As they put it, they “cause scenes of chaos and joy in public places”. As an example, earlier this year they organized 200 people to go to Grand Central Station in New York and, at the exact same second for five full minutes, all of them froze in place.

 

I’ve followed their exploits for a few years now, and their latest stunt was genius. They turned a little league baseball game in Hermosa Beach, California into a major league event, complete with screaming fans in the bleachers, programs featuring little league player bios, sudden appearances from peanut and popcorn vendors in the stands, costumed mascots, a jumbotron TV at the side of the field with NBC Sports doing live game commentary and a fly-by from the Goodyear Blimp.

 

Can you imagine this happening to you as a kid? That would have blown my 11-year-old mind.

 

Check out pictures and video here.

On the front page of the National Post this morning is an article revealing that an effective screening tool for Alzheimer's disease has been developed that can be used on live patients. Before now, the internal effects of Alzheimer's - toxic amyloid plaque buildup in brain cells and brain cell "tangles" - could only be seen during an autopsy which wasn't much help to the poor dead dude with a new flip-top head. What makes this intriguing from a social psychology and ethical perspective is that this technique can detect those telltale signs of Alzheimers sometimes before any external symptoms appear, and also that there is currently no known cure for the disease which is severely debilitating and always fatal.

 

Well, that's great!, one might think. Now I can know ahead of time if I might be developing Alzheimer's. Is any knowledge about my health a bad thing?

 

That's the $10,000 question. There are plenty of routine screening tests that we're given throughout our lives to look for early warning signs of disease, such as mammograms or prostate exams for cancer. But the purpose of those tests is to catch the early progression of a disease and then treat it.

 

Roughly 1% of all Canadians over 65 will contract Alzheimer's. But there's no treatment for it. Nothing to cure it, and nothing even to slow it down. Yet.

 

So should the Alzheimer's test be added to the list of routine medical tests for people over a certain age? All of those other tests have a purpose - to begin early treatment. But this would be an F.Y.I. test only. No pills, no injections, no treatment.

 

Picture yourself as a 59-year-old, nearing or at retirement, preparing to enjoy your twilight years. Would you want to know? How would it change how you live your life from that moment on? Would it be a black cloud hanging over your head, tainting the remainder of your life? Or would you embrace the time you have and make it count?

 

And should the medical community decide for you whether or not you have a right to know at all?

 

My first thought was, hell yes I'd want to know. I think I'd be able to put it in perspective, make my preparations, and enjoy my life without constantly despairing or cursing God for my misfortune. I'd make a Do-It-Before-I-Lose-It list! Too bad Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman ruined the idea.

 

So... would you want to know?

This is pretty much the best thing ever. Click each pic (twice) to embiggen.

Apparently my youngest daughter Anika has been fully corrupted by the commercialization of holidays. Yes, Santa Claus brings presents at Christmas. Yes, the Easter Bunny brings chocolates at Easter. And, God help me, the seeping heart gnome sprays bloody valentines from a ruptured ventricle every February 14th. And I hear lucky boys and girls get moldy-smelling powdered wigs on George Washington's birthday in the 'States.

But St. Patrick's Day? Now kids expect a supernatural, gift-bestowing visit on Random Green Irish-Themed Holiday (tm)? Anika seems to think so. She laid a clever snare for an Irish pixie yesterday:

Yes, ancient Gaelic legend has it that the wee beastie is lured at first by the coppery smell of a stack of old Canadian pennies and, once the stale peppermint reek of leftover Christmas candy cane ornaments cleverly concealed in a Styrofoam cup tickles its nostrils, it's game over, Lepercon!

My kids rule.

As anyone who knows me can attest, I'm a true movie geek, and the thing I miss most living in a small town is the lack of a really good movie theatre. But even if I was living in Edmonton, or Calgary, or even Los Angeles, I think I'd still be left wanting because I wasn't in Austin, Texas.

 

I've heard great things about the Alamo Drafthouse Movie Theatre for years, most recently on the special features of the Sin City - Recut & Extended DVD set. There's an awesome and unique special feature on the disc that allows you to watch the movie with surround sound audio recorded inside the Alamo Drafthouse theatre during the world premiere of the film. In other words, you can enjoy the film with the sounds of an enthusiastic, thrilled audience around you.

I've never seen many details about this theatre until I read this entry at SlashFilm about one guy's Drafthouse experience during the SXSW film festival. I mean, how many movie theatres would truck in a couple of sides of beef and chain them up in the lobby during the Rocky Balboa premiere and let everyone throw a few punches at them, or rent a mechanical bull for a screening of Urban Cowboy, or have a flamethrower demonstration during the premiere of Rambo?

Now that's a movie theatre experience.

I'm always in awe of those unique people who not only have an outside-the-box brainstorm but also have the drive and ambition to bring their eureka! moment to life.

And making a ton of money at it isn't a bad side effect, either.

From today's National Post:

Teacher reinvents the chair to stop class clowns

 

Chair

Tue Feb 19, 2008 4:04pm GMT

 

LONDON (Reuters) - A teacher has designed a school chair that is physically impossible to tip backwards in the hopes of getting pupils to sit still, prevent dangerous accidents and give teachers a quieter life.

Tom Wates quit his teaching post in London to design the 'Max' chair to stop students from clowning around in class.

"The reason I went into it was because of the irritation of children leaning back," Tom Wates, who quit his teaching post in London to design the 'Max' chair, told Reuters.

"You would get into the flow of the lesson, the kid would fall off the chair, everyone would laugh and you would have to start again," the former maths and physical education instructor said.

The new 'Max' chair provides more support in the lower back, forcing children to sit up straight and its rear two legs are slightly splayed outwards, preventing any tilting.

Wates said it is physically impossible to swing the chair backwards more than a few centimetres.

He said each year 7,000 school children need to go to hospital after injuring themselves by tipping backwards on chairs.

Swivel chairs in most offices have five feet to prevent such tilting, but most schools can't afford these designs.

The ergonomic Max chair costs just 15 pounds, and before it has even been properly launched Wates' company, DLB Limited, has already received orders for 1,500 chairs from 18 schools.

The futuristic design comes in blue, red, green, black and white with chrome legs and DLB said it suitable for children and adults of all ages.

"We just tried to make the school chair much funkier but also much safer," Wates said.

 

I’ve lived in rural Alberta for over a decade, thanks to the sadistic whims of my employer. Luckily I found to my surprise that I really liked small-town living even if I had to forego such important amenities such as movie theatres with screens bigger than a kitchen table and restaurants whose specialty is something other than a veiny horsemeat lasagna.

And man, the radio sucks. When I lived in Edmonton there were more choices, but even then, there’s only so many cuh-RAAAAAAAAZY morning crews or Howard Stern wannabes I could endure before wanting to drive my car into a bridge abutment. In smaller towns, you’re really outta luck unless listening to the World Wide Precious Metals Report on 630 CHED on Saturday afternoons or The Trading Post - like radio eBay, only with less cool stuff, more used farm equipment, and zero entertainment value -  is your idea of a good time.

At one point, my family and I ended up in High Level. It's Alberta's northernmost town, near the NWT border. It’s three hours south to Peace River, the next major town, and five hours to the closest approximation of a city, Grande Prairie. I called the highway out of High Level “the tree tunnel”, because that’s all you'd see – endless klicks of ruler-straight asphalt and, on either side of the ditches, 50-foot-tall impenetrable, unending barricades of evergreen trees. The first few times you drive it, you’ll marvel at the feeling of magnificent isolation. Every time after that, you feel like stabbing a tire pressure gauge into your eye just to keep awake.

So, desperate to survive the drive, at the local library I was relieved to rediscover books on tape and CD. I loved ‘em. I needed 'em. They were the only diversions that kept my mind working and alert during those long, solitary drives to regional meetings and training sessions. Those audio novels kept me going for many years, but then about three years ago I discovered podcasts.

Don’t know what they are? Well, think of your absolute all-time favorite radio program. You know, the one that's only on once in a while - if you’re lucky - and it's on at an awkward time and you always seem to miss it. Well, podcasting allows you to subscribe to that favorite program - for free - and it downloads automatically to your iPod or mp3 player while you sleep for playback whenever you want. And there are thousands and thousands of different podcasts, ranging from commercially produced shows to amateur basement recordings, in topics ranging from broad to ridiculously specific. Didja enjoy The Lone Ranger as a kid? Try The Frontier Western Theatre Podcast. Like the paranormal? Listen to The Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe Podcast.  Do you belch during a meal? Download Mr. Manners’ Quick and Dirty Tips for a More Polite Life.

One of my regular podcasts, with several new hour-long episodes every week, is Coverville, a music program that specializes in showcasing the vast array of cover songs in all genres of music. Although it's produced by a guy named Brian Ibbott out of his basement, the production quality is excellent, and it introduced me to the wonders of the cover song. Now I'm seriously hooked. I get a visceral thrill when I hear for the first time a gem of a cover song that actually improves on an already great original song.  Coverville has also greatly expanded my musical tastes  - I love listening to a unique, off-the-wall cover song by an artist I've never heard of that I would never have discovered otherwise.

A big reason I'm enjoying blogging is being able to share things that I enjoy with the people I enjoy, so here's two cover songs that make me bounce like a rabbit on crack while driving down the highway.

First, here's a cover of an old punk anthem by the band Pulp called "Common People". This version by Ben Folds, Joe Jackson and - yes, by all that is holy - William "The Shat" Shatner from his 2004 album "Has Been" is too awesomely bizarre to describe put into words..

Another Ben Folds track is a cover of a song originally performed by The Postal Service but better known as covered by The Shins on the soundtrack to the movie “Garden State”. Ben Folds' version was recorded at a radio station in Australia and features found instruments like tinfoil and empty glass bottles, making for a uniquely rough and raucous sound. The song is "Such Great Heights".

Somewhere I heard that the author of this old BBS post is doing something, um, interesting. I can't quite remember what, though. Hmmm... it's on the tip of my tongue... I know it's something with lots of signs.

It'll come to me.

   90Oct03 12:15 am from The Turtle

 

 The Anatomy of Uk

 --- ------- -- -- 

 

 Walking through the woods one day

 I saw the madmen holding sway

 Over the dock and the waving bay.

 

 I trod to where the leader stood

 He pulled back his cloak and hood

 And addressed me in a solemn mood--

 

 "Be ye he who sees the sea--

  If ye be he who kisseth she--

  Know now that I am not he--

  Not he who appreciates poetic sequelty."

 

 Taken aback, I retreated a step

 He pushed forward, with vigored pep

 "To you,

         " he said, "I'll a lesson teach.'

 

 When your emotions run amuck

 You must remember--

 

 The anatomy of Uk."

 

 I did recoil, not knowing why

 He excused me to kiss the sky

 I'm just an ordinary guy

 These things happen to me--I could just cry.

 

 "The anamtomy of Uk is a complex one

  It's got green beans and blue starsun

  Hypothermia in Eden and Ninth Decrees

  Take off my Lebensraum or I'll poke you in the eye

  (up to the first knuckle)"

 

   What ho!

   What ho!

 

 "Glory be to Uk!"

 "Glory be to Uk!"

 

 I curled in a position fetal

 Tucked in my shell like a frightened beetle

 

 "Uk!  If I have to!  Indeed!

  Uk!  Like phytoplankton seaweed! 

  Like Ice Cream Emperors!

  Like the skinned retina I plucked from the whole in the bucket

  Dear Liza, Dear Liza!"

 

 Liza! Dear Liza!

 

  "Uk!  The symphony of scum

   Uk!  The worm in the rum

   Uk!  A peasant's disease

   Uk!  A PMs decrees."

 

  Oh, heaven! 

     Rescue me!

 

 My scissored lips!  

 Scissored lips screaming to Sam--

 

  PLAY IT AGAIN!  OH< PLEASE>

 

  Please please please

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 play it again.

 

 OR--if not--

 

 If you refuse--

 

 Give me a ticket

 to Syracuse--

 

 My bonnie, lying over the ocean.

 

 My Eyes, still bleeding Coke.

I've been absent lately. From the blog, from lots of things. I didn't really mean things to lapse like this - in fact, this is exactly what I told myself I wouldn't do. As I've gotten older I've started - much too slowly - to learn about the kind of person I am and the kinds of things that can make the clockwork gears in my head speed up or, in this case, slow down.

At my core is an oxymoron - I'm a lonely loner. I know, it's kinda ridiculous. I've been lucky to have some really great friends and relationships in my life, and I loved every manic, geeked-out, intimate moment of them. And I've lost touch with nearly all of them. I allow the people in my life to fade. I let it happen - I suppose I make it happen, if I'm being honest with myself. I can't explain it except to say that it's a kind of inexorable mental gravity that takes a tremendous amount of energy to overcome. And if stresses in my life are siphoning the lion's share of that energy - those times where those friendships are needed the most - I find myself just... letting those same friendships falter.

In my job, I work with people all the time. Like a Spanish immigrant who can learn key English phrases phonetically, I've taught myself how to have small-talk conversations with people, how to make dumb jokes, how to be convivial. I can speak confidently in front of groups of people and be comfortable meeting with clients in an office. I know how to "be" around co-workers, acquaintances, strangers. But for as long as I can remember, and especially since University, the thought of doing something as simple as picking up the phone a giving an old friend a call has been a tiny bit terrifying.

But I don't want to be like that. It really hurts to be like that. I've restarted this blog several times now in the last several years hoping, among other things, that people I know - used to know, I suppose - might stop by. Because, I don't know, that's easier for me in some twisted way.

Dammit. This is really hard. I can't say this stuff out loud, though, because the words never come out right. My writing's not much better, but in getting the thoughts out of my head and out into the real world, it works.

I took my daughter to see No Country For Old Men the other day which, through what must've been some sort of mistake, was playing at our local shabby Cineplex. The No Country reels must've been accidentally packed in Alvin and the Chipmunks canisters for it to show up here. Anyway, there were two guys behind us in line for the movie (the only other people in our line, I should add. This is rural Alberta, and I'm sure most wouldn't have heard about No Country at all, let alone know who the Coen brothers are.)

These two guys, one tall and lanky with a shaved head, the other about a foot and half shorter with J. J. Abrams glasses, were chatting about the Coens and Fargo, and then the discussion moved on to the upcoming Iron Man movie. If that wasn't astounding anough, they started musing about the potential coolness of a Green Lantern and Green Arrow film. Intelligently.

Holy crap, I thought. Fellow geeks? Live, in the flesh, in Crusty Armpit, Alberta? I felt like I had discovered the coelacanth. Maybe if I hadn’t been with my daughter, I might’ve gone over and introduced myself.

But again, being honest… probably not.

This and other recent events have really made me think about the role I’ve carved for myself in my life and just how cloyingly comfortable my self-imposed boundaries have become. Unchangingly safe. My ludicrous status quo.

It’s gotta go.