Jan 072012

So, I’ve got a little time, I’ve got a little money to burn, I figured it’s about time I tried this Foreign Exchange thing-a-ma-bob. Turns out, it’s fairly easy to understand; you’re basically trading currency pairs, and looking to make good deals.

So, I’m about to dive right in with both feet. I’ll let you all know how it goes, well, unless I get stinking rich of course, because then it’s time to purchase an island. And then, anything goes….


Click here to try it out with me!

Jan 032012

This is too cold. As King of the World, I demand lasers to be shot into the air in an attempt to warm up Toronto. That is all.





I spent entirely too much time in this park as a teen, I must say.

Jan 032012

When I first read this poem, moons and moons ago, I was a fresh young kid, somewhere between 11 and 13… I didn’t really understand it at the time, but after reading it, I was immediately certain he was referring to me. It was just something I knew, and took for granted. Of course he was. And the sun shines during the day. It’s so obvious. I just knew, and that was that. 

As it turns out,  sometimes I also have a gaze blank and pitiless as the sun. I’m still pretty sure it refers to me, but we’ll have to see what happens in the next few years… 

I guess you just never know… but it’s a heck of good poem, all in all…


William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)


Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Jan 022012

As of today, I guess I’ll enable comments. You need to log in with either your Facebook or Twitter ID.

I get a lot of comment spam on other blogs I run for people, so we’ll see how this all goes…. But welcome to all!