Ideas Marinating Blog

That is what I have been hearing from most friends as of late. Since it seems –and righthly so– that I pulled a dissapearing act. Yes, *poof* just like that.

I wish I could say that I have been travelling or exploring the inner trenches of our city. Better yet, left all my belongings and joined a Buddhist monastery on a sabbatical of fancy to meditate on my many, many –well, perhaps not that many– sins. Alas that is not the case. In fact, quite the opposite. I have stayed at home watching unhealthy amounts of the History and Discovery channels –not necessarily by choice– and writing away my sorrows. I swear that if a gream Canadian novel does not come out of this I heads are going to roll! But basically just taking it easy and recuperating.

Yes, you read right: recuperating. It is sad to say but I have been diagnosed with a condition that although not life threating –well, there is always a chance of that, but then again there is always a chance of being hit by a bus everytime you walk out the door– has taken a good chunk of my time, patience and general happy disposition.

However, it does not really affect my mind, so technically you will be seeing more of my adventures and mis-adventures in the weeks to come.

So for those who kept on asking — I am alive, and I am back.

Oh Cordelia, who knew when you first came to me, you rodent you, with your scaly tail and wildly flaring nostrils would so easily find a welcome place in my home? After all, who among us does not have chilling Black Death et al flashbacks when thinking of rats?

Sure, they may have ‘helped’ spread the virus that might have killed up 75 million people in Europe alone, but what is a bit of attempted genocide in between friends? It is not like they meant it.

Since we cannot even pretend to be equally guiltless throughout our own history. Why should we abhor animals with the IQ of 6?
At least we knew what we were doing, regardless of the BS we told ourselves to justify it.

So, back to Cordy. I took her originally as a favour to a my best friend’s sister Karin, you see this cutie –the rat– came from a lab. She had been part in a number of experiments and she was getting close to her, uh, ‘layoff’ date if you catch my drift. Which meant she would be put to sleep along with all her fellow rats and sisters: She had two of them.

The lab tech –whose name shall go nameless– felt sorry for the little one and decided to spare her. However, she could not keep Cordy herself as her boyfriend at the time was highly allergic to rats and so she ended staying “temporarily” with me.

As you can imagine, my first mistake was to inquire the exact meaning of the word ‘temporary.’
After all, England had temporary control over Hong Kong for over one hundred years at the end of the Second Opium war and ditto for the 85 years the United States maintained and babysat the Panama Canal.

Surely, my tenure with Cordy would be nothing of that sort as I expected the little critter out of my apartment in a matter of weeks.

So, two years and a second rat later. Who knew rats were communal creatures and can easily spin into depression unless you get them a room mate? Yes, depression, if kept alone. Obviously not what I had originally signed for.

As you can clearly see, Cordy is the pillow and Lenore — known as the “lowly number two” or “pleb-rat” is ironically commanding shotgun and clearly enjoying the bean-bag that is her sister. Now, I don’t know about you but these do not look like stressed out animals. Genocidal? Uh, no. Lazy maybe, opportunistic would be a better bet. Narcissistic? There you go, that would fill the bill even better as they obviously enjoying a symbiotic warming system. However strung out would be a hard call, I mean, this pics were taking at night and rats are supposed to be nocturnal. Damn furry freeloaders. And that they were, since I normally used to feed them anything I ate, for example chicken, cow, salmon, shrimp, pasta, mussels and sushi. Heck they even had shark, swordfish and turkey. Obviously they tasted things that would otherwise be impossible in the wild. They loved it, but I mean, a rat stalking and killing a shark? Darwin is probably rolling in his grave!

Then, only a week before her anniversary, Cordy fell ill. I never knew what was wrong as it happened suddenly. Sure she was older and she had been slowing down but from one day to the next?

She was almost motionless. Just lying there…
Later I would be told she probably suffered a stroke. I tried to cheer her up, gave her some antibiotics in the hopes that she had some virus.
But it was all to no avail. Nothing helped.

I took part of the afternoon off to spend sometime to rat-sit. It was heartbreaking to see her willfully trying to saunter as half her body refused to comply. She drag herself to my lap and it was then when the choice was made to put her down.

Later that night, Karin came by with a syringe that would do the deed in the most humane possible way. Trust me it was, I was there. We said good-bye Cordy and soon thereafter the needle went into her heart. Karin then handed her to me and I held her on a towel petting her as her breathing started slowing down.

I spoke kindly to her, knowing fully well this rodent had no possible way of understanding what I was saying. But I have read somewhere that many animals, although not as intelligent as humans, can distinguish responses and basic behaviour. Cordy passed away fifteen minutes later.

Later that night, I went to the back of the building and buried her. Throwing her down the shute didn’t seem quite right. Along with her went her favourite toys and her blanket.

Had anyone ever told me that I would have been distraught at the death of a rat I would have thought it silly. However it is amazing how a little critter can become a part of your life like that.
Heck, I still know tons of my friend who would be disgusted at the idea of a having a rat as a pet and that is their choice.

However Cordy you had such a wicked personality for an rodent that I can’t help but to be sorry at the loss, and if anything she won’t be forgotten. How could I? She was my first pet rat.

Alright, this is not the average post and I am a bit of a computer geek, which is no surprise since I work in IT. Now, this post will probably not mean much to you unless you work on computers everyday. By ‘working with computers everyday,’ I do not mean creating just word files and spreadsheets. Not to say this post would not benefit those individuals.

Anyway, even if you know a bit about the Windows Power Toys line up you know is not something that you can use to impress the opposite sex with, however it can save time by making those little things you do with your computer everyday either easier or a less bit annoying.

For example:

Alt-Tab Replacement
With this PowerToy, in addition to seeing the icon of the application window you are switching to, you will also see a preview of the page. This helps particularly when multiple sessions of an application are open.

Or

SyncToy
With new sources of files coming from every direction (such as digital cameras, e-mail, cell phones, portable media players, camcorders, PDAs, and laptops), SyncToy can help you copy, move, and synchronize different directories.

Now they are all free downloads, although some of them may ask you to prove that you have not have a pirat–, I mean ‘borrowed’ version of Ms-Windos. So without any further ado, you can check the complete list of power toys by clicking here.

Cheers!

New York – In a disastrous instance of bloody and feathered irony, 83-year-old Anthony Greath met his untimely demise while feeding the very birds he had spent the last 37 years of his life studying.

Mr. Greath had been in the same spot at The Pond in Central Park near 59th street, ready to do his weekly feeding of ‘his pigeons,’ a ritual he had been keeping religiously for the last 37 years.

“He even had a special recipe for them, (he) never told me what was in it, but I always suspected it contained bananas, bread crumbs, honey, nuts and maybe some weeds. My husband always said it drove them crazy.” Mr. Greath’s widow said before breaking down in a river of tears.

According to witnesses, a swarm of pigeons numbering in the hundreds surrounded Mr. Greath as they eagerly waited for their benefactor to begin brunch. Unfortunately, the senior citizen who had complaining of a sore knee joint earlier that day, tripped on the two full half-gallon containers spilling its content and effectively douching himself from chest to toe with his secret recipe.

“It was a case of pure ‘Pavlov’s Dogs’ behavior gone haywire.” Said John Steinberg a grad student at NYU. “It was insane to watch! It was like, one of those things you read in the Darwin awards. They zeroed on him like Bush to an oil field. Once he was on the floor, it was over. I had my camera with me, but in the frenzy, I only got two shots.

Mr. Greath’s screams for help did gather a number of spectators who thinking it to be a show of some sort hesitated to intervene, “It was like watching Hitchcock’s The Birds but for real, everybody was laughing until the minute the birds started to dissipate and we noticed there was nothing left. Eewww! I am still nauseous of just thinking about it. I don’t think I can sleep with my two canaries in the same room anymore.” A female-witness was reported as saying.

Forensic investigators at the scene were utterly disgusted at the lack of victim’s remains. “I have seen murders, bear and wolf mauling victims throughout my career, but nothing could have prepared me for this.” Said Dr. Mulroney, a twenty-year veteran with the NYPD. “One would assume that after 30 plus years of studying the damn things, he would’ve known the risk he was taking every time he pulled a crazy stunt like that. There was barely anything left to id him with, even for dental. Poor bastard.”

“This would be the 27th death on Central Park in the last two years, but it would be the first in the park’s 138 year history to credit the cause of death to ravenous pigeons. Really, this is the weirdest thing I have ever heard.” Said Park Warden Lt. Lendford.

“Do you have any idea of how many pigeons there are in the Central Park? Do you know how much it would cost to get rid of them? We are in the middle of a budget crunch, maybe if this had happened at the beginning of the fiscal year, things would have been different, maybe… or maybe not.”

Central Park officials, who are determined for this tragedy to never repeat itself have banned all senior citizens or “any other folk” who are unable to run away from hungry pigeons in case they are attacked within the park grounds.

On a related note, a number of TV production companies have been trying to start negotiations with Mrs. Greath with the intention to purchase the rights to tell Mr. Greath’s story as a movie of the week extravaganza. “This stuff is gold!” Said Fox TV Executive Frank Sherburne, “We had been scratching our heads to the bone looking for ideas for a new reality based movie. If we get it, we’ll run it right after our smash hit: ‘Who wants to beat a cop?’ Fox will own Friday nights again!”

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This is a collection of ‘Bruck articles’ that have appeared in The Torontonian Blog. A collection of strange musings which have somehow in some way inspired twisted black humour and sometimes the surreal. You can’t be found guilty if you laugh. Think of it as twisted mental comfort food.