Moral-Flexibility.Net

[From This Hour has 22 Minutes]

As my email inbox and blog comments fill with spam advertising this sort of thing I thought I’d post a clip from This Hour has 22 Minutes for entertainment value.

I recently received a series of photos by email of a fatal crash between a SmartCar and a truck. The more graphic photos (those showing the victim) I’ve failed to include here, but if you’re curious a google search should find them no problem. I was initially interested because my Father and Step-Mom own a smart car.

Now I’m no Auto-phile, but the small portion of the vehicle remaining intact did not appear to be a SmartCar as I had seen them, the spare tire mounted on the rear of the car seemed out of place. A second look shows the name of the car in the first photo (albeit only partially visible due to the amount of damage) stencilled across the vehicle below the doors. It appears to be, and was verified by a little googling, a Volkswagen Crossfox.

Not that the mistaken identity of the vehicle type makes the photos any less horrific, but this should serve as another example of taking the stuff that arrives in your inbox with a grain of salt before randomly forwarding it.

Tsk tsk.

If you’re a Canadian you’re familiar with the Heritage Minute shorts that appear on TV from time to time. I’ve nothing against these shorts, anything that encourages interest in our nations history is hardly likely to rate as a “bad thing” with me. It is the parodies of these minutes, however, that are almost always more entertaining than the originals (available here).

This Hour has 22 Minutes has done more than it’s fair share, and one of their mocku-minutes is posted below, give it a viewing.

At least this tradition we’re recognized for around the world.

[Hat Tip: My 2 Second Shelf Life]

I’ve carried a set of handcuffs for years. Common sense, however, dictates that anything with a simple key, one universal to almost every set of handcuffs in existence, is not going to be that hard to beat. I’ll admit I still didn’t think it’d be that easy.

[From View from North Central Idaho via Says Uncle]

A quick note here, one of my least favorite jobs in security has got to be writing parking tickets. It seems almost every city has some mechanism where they certify private security to issue city tickets on private property. A good deal for the city, as they incur almost no expense and reap the revenue from these tickets. My present job is no exception, and I’m assured at least one surreal encounter each time I grab the ticket book and wander the parking lots writing tickets.

As our hero begrudgingly saunters through an overfull parking lot ticketing vehicles that are not displaying the appropriate permit, he is approached by what appears to be an intoxicated white male dressed suitably to “hang ten”.

Surfer Dude: Yo buddy (one of my favorite salutations, without doubt), did you give me this ticket?
Respectfully Insolent Me: Quite possible sir, that sounds like something I would do.
SD: -blink- -blink-
RIM: -sigh- Yes sir, is there something I can help with?
SD: You’re an asshole.
RIM: True, but the hours are good and there’s no heavy lifting.
SD: -blink- -blink-
RIM: Was there something else sir? (returning to writing yet another ticket for some unsuspecting driver)
SD: Uh, yeah…take it back!
RIM: -sigh- Does that sound like something an asshole would do, sir?
SD: This isn’t a REAL ticket anyway!
RIM: Ok, it’s not a real ticket. Have a nice night sir.
SD: Take it back!
RIM: Sir, with all due respect, are we having the same conversation?
SD: What? -blink- -blink-
RIM: -sigh- (The sound of my pen scratching across the newest ticket is interrupted only by the “WOOOHOOOO!” mating call of the modern intoxicated urbanite in the distance)
SD: So are you going to take the ticket back?
RIM: No.
SD: (gears visibly mesh in his alcohol addled mind, the usual stuff isn’t working, time to change tactics) What sort of kickback do you get from these?
RIM: (Oh please don’t tell me he’s going to offer me a few bucks to cancel a ticket, that’s just embarrassing) $50 per ticket (There is no kickback sadly, it’s just that I routinely lie about anything money related).
SD: Really? -blink- I’ll give you a beer if you cancel the ticket.
RIM: (Signing the last ticket and walking towards my car) Sir, I can’t cancel the ticket, not even for a beer. I’ll let you in on a secret though.
SD: What secret?
RIM: (now climbing back into my car) Look, you can’t tell anyone, it’d get me in trouble. Just keep a large stuffed purple elephant belted in to the passenger seat when you’re parked illegally, it’s a secret sign, and no bylaw officers will give you a ticket as long as that elephant is there.
SD: Really?
RIM: Sure. It works for carpool lanes as well. G’night.

In case you missed something, it doesn’t work for parking tickets or carpool lanes, but I still keep an eye out for purple stuffed elephants riding shotgun when I’m driving around the city. It helps pass the time.

I’m late, I know I’m late on this one.

On July 21st, 2007 at 0001hrs the latest (and lastest reportedly) Harry Potter book was released. I admit that I was present in the crowd at midnight when the book went on sale. Now before a flood of mocking comments arrive, I’d like to point out that I was there involuntarily, wearing my polyester crime-fighting outfit and mentally willing all sorts of horrible accidents upon my boss who felt that an experienced security guy should be there in case…. uh, in case of geek riots I s’pose.

So, I stood inside the front entrance of Chapters for 5 hours suppressing both common sense and sarcasm (almost completely), and offering those entering directions to the assortment of lines that were swelling as midnight approached.

Now, I should pause here to point out that I have “listened” to the first four Harry Potter audio books during my 9 months of 4 hour commutes, and I’ve seen the movies. I would not describe myself as a fan, but I don’t see any harm in the stories (or movies), and they are entertaining in their way.

That said, if one more “fan” yelled “Avra Cadabra!” as they entered the store, I was going to accept my fate and enter into an extended game of “Punch face”.

Asked and Answered:

Question: Are you here for the Harry Potter release?
Answer: No Ma’am, We’re here for former Prime Minister Paul Martin, he’s here to promote his autobiography in the true crime section.

Question: (Whispered by fan) Are you here to prevent anyone from yelling out spoilers?
Answer: Yes sir, if I so much as hear someone whisper that Harry accidentally kills Hermione they’re… oh damn, I’ve said too much.

I fell asleep on the couch last night watching bad movies on TV. Around 4:00am I awoke suddenly and noticed a small black object swooping around the room, then into the kitchen.

This surprised me less than it might have as Lisa had told me that there was a bird (or bat) trapped in the house a few days ago, which had disappeared into the basement. A fairly detailed search having failed to uncover him, I assumed he’d make a reappearance.

After pulling on my work gloves I opened the front door, blocked the kitchen door off with a blanket, then sat at my desk watching the bat swoop closer and closer to the open door until he flew outside. Piece of cake. What concerns me is that I am almost certain that I saw a second bat swoop back into the basement when I first stumbled bleary-eyed into the kitchen. Is this going to have to become a regular event?