I went over to Canada earlier and took this picture. I think it clearly shows the problem that Canadians are having reguarding the diversity of moose in their ecosystem. Currently 86.3% of all Canadian moose only speak French, 11.4% only speak Canadian English, 2.1% are bilingual and the remaining 0.2% speak only speak Morse code after a very bad mix up at the moose language depot.
This is why we need to start smuggling foreign moose into Canada to diversify the moose population. I can't imagine the difficulties normal Canadians face when the stop and ask a moose for directions and he only speaks French and you don't have your cat with you to translate.
Do you know how hard it was to get those moose to stay still while I captured that photo? Yeah the one on the left was easy but the other two, god damn man. J'adore pomme de terre is not French for please stand still.
I guess I could smuggle my cat in so he can translate the French speaking moose but you know that sounds a bit far fetched. I'm liking plan A better of smuggling Swedish moose on a boat to Alaska, which is like the other side to where I'd end up but my plan means we have to land at Alaska. Once into Alaska we find Sarah Palin and bribe her with the prospect of teaching her French so she can conquer the world. Yeah I ken that it'd be a short lesson but I think she'll buy it. Then once we have Sarah Palin walking around saying " Bonjour, J'adore pomme de terre" we go to the Alaska / Canada border then hop across. Ta daaaaaaa we're in Canada with Swedish moose teaching the French speaking Canadian moose how to speak Swedish. Although I don't know Swedish and I'm not sure Swedish moose know French. I suppose I could go back and smuggle my cat in to talk to the French speaking Canadian moose but I'm not sure he understands Swedish either.
Anyways that's the plan, may need some fine tuning but as a meerkat would say, simples.
You know, I actually had something proper to write here and I've just spent the time talking about other things and have forgotten what I was actually going to write about.
Computer games get a lot of bad press. Now they're one of the things being blamed for sexualising women.
Computer games can be good, seriously. They make kids read for a start, they encourage co-operation, there's logic problems to solve, surprisingly they can help learn about other countries, cultures and aid social skills.
At this current point in time I play two main platforms for gaming, PC and Xbox 360.
Now this picture I have here is of World of Warcraft. It's an old picture, oldest I could find since I think most of my older, better pictures were lost when I had to get my computer fixed.
Anyway this picture shows two characters, one character is a night elf warrior called Nsane and the other is a dwarf hunter called Khalide. Now that won't mean much to most people but that dwarf is now a good friend of mine in reality. You'll know him as Marti, he's the short guy who looks a lot like his character but not so round. I've now known him from some time in early 2006 or late 2005, think it was early 2006 but I can't remember that part. It's been a long time.
I had played Warcraft RTS ( real time strategy) games before and was quite excited about seeing the world in 3D and it was pretty cool but I never expected to actually find someone to talk too and have a laugh with. Now we were far from being good players but damn we made a good team. I ran into the opposite team hundreds of times to save his flag carrying ass, we usually ended up losing anyway but that's not the point. We went down fighting, sort of.
Now that little dwarf has grown up ( not in height ) and got married but we still talk, I still make jokes about his height and he still possibly goes to bed crying, wishing I'd stop but you know what he's my friend and every week I send him a couple of shortbread biscuits. With all those passing weeks he gets half an inch closer to being able to survive a flood in Chard. I just hope the flood waters don't break up the shortbread biscuits otherwise he'll have to swim. Since he's a surfer I assume he knows how to swim so that's good but it doesn't take anyway anything from the significance of those shortbread biscuits. Those biscuits help him to reach the stars and other biscuits in the higher shelves in Tesco.
Those shortbread biscuits signify something more than impending heart failure, they stand for friendship. The friendship between one man, one short short man and another man who is like 1 foot taller and mocks him ever so much but it's friendly mocking. It's joshing.
It's nice to be nice, so lets make today a nice day. Lets make today a day when Falkirk travel away from home and beat Dundee Utd.
Keeping with the nice theme and being in what is a relatively good mood at close to 3am. I'm sure I've mentioned this before but over the past few years it has been hard and there are people I should say thank you to more often than I do if ever.
Like Marti is someone great to talk to and understands many things, except computers, seriously I had to teach him so much.
"No Marti that's the power button don't press that one, if you do that you can't read what's here."
Ah I josh, I josh. He knows how to turn his computer on.....he asks his wife.
Taking away the shortbread, now he can't reach to punch me.
Ok lets get serious again. I really should thank my sister since over the past year and a half she's been great. I'm not one for saying or writing I love you in cards but I'll mock you. I'll tell you that you're hair looks like Harry Potter went to T in the Park and had Hermione Granger sitting on his shoulders to see a band and it was her time of the month and she had a really heavy flow concentrated on the fringe. Now I may say that but my sister knows I'm joking. She'll cry for a while but then she'll seek vengeance on her patients.
Again getting serious, my sister has been great, she understands the anxiety, she understands the stress. She also picked a good person to marry. I aint going to get all soppy but my brother in law is great too. Again he understands what it's like plus he understands my sense of humour. Sitting in a living room or in a car laughing for 6 hours is a pretty damn good pick me up when life isn't going too well. The jokes are bad, sometimes sick and quite often end in Toooooooooodaloooooooooooooooooo muthafucka but it's all good.
It's great to have someone you can talk to about converting your sisters car into a convertable and hog tying a moose and putting it in her boot whilst you phone the police from a safe distance.
There's a lot of things I am thankful for and I'm glad that I can finally see them.