KILOWATT THE F*CK?

The 21st century's a grand time, ain't it?

The internet's become as common as the radio, cell phones are the size of credit cards and computers are the size of calculators. Yep, we've come a long way from the days when hi-fi and wi-fi were nothing but sci-fi.

But some things are still being done the hard way.

Which brings me forth to the question of the moment: why the hell are hydro companies still sending human beings around with little grey boxes to take hydro meter readings?

We can send e-mail and talk over computers but we can't program hydro meters to send their readings electronically?

And don't tell me they're not getting wads of cash every month. Sure, everybody's going green, switching to little twisty bulbs and turning off every which light they can. But there's also two to three computers in every house and who doesn't own a hydro-hogging plasma or lcd TV nowadays? Then there's the need to cool down and -- uh, what? Oh...

(EDITOR'S NOTE: Increased use of air conditioners in the summer of 2009 has been difficult to prove, as has any evidence that the summer of 2009 actually occurred, for that matter.)

Okay, well, never mind.

Stay tuned...

HEY, MAN -- WHAT'S THAT SMELL?

Geez, how does this thing work again? Lessee... type a bunch of stuff... press the POST button... yeah, I think I got it.

Ahem!

Today's lesson -- only three months or so after the last one -- is directed solely at the wonderful individual in my neighbourhood with the big dog and the bad back.

This person is anonymous, and yet I know so much about them. How do I know this person has a big dog and a bad back? The evidence is on the bottom of my shoe.

I feel like I'm back in grade three -- anybody up for some Shoe and Tell?

Yes, my footwear is soiled with the stenchified remains of some Rover's twelve hour old meal. Whomever is responsible has left dog shit up and down the street. It's on a bunch of people's lawns (including mine) and in the middle of one sidewalk. I suppose it could be a gang of dancing strays (West Shite Story anyone?), but I'm guessing it's the young fella up the road who walks two rather large dogs on a regular basis.

You see, before he started prowling the 'hood, I had clean shoes.

I know, I know... it's totally circumstantial. But it all adds up -- an addition I'd like to subtract.

So pal, if you're reading this (and really, what are the odds) let me tell you somethin' -- start picking up after your two best friends or I'm breaking out the paper bags, the BBQ lighter and my right thumb.

You may not be good at picking it up, but I'll bet you're pretty good at putting it out.

Stay tuned...

IT'S STILL NICER THAN BROCCOLI

There is nothing worse than corn. Well, except for bloggers who post only once or twice a month.

Seriously, though, corn is evil.

Sure, it's supposed to be this nice, healthy vegetable -- sweet to the taste when properly prepared.

But your stomach won't digest it.

Put your Orville's in the microwave too long and you'll be left with a permastench that would almost make halitosis a welcome intervention.

And it's this so-called saviour to the environment that when converted makes a fuel that nobody can afford to buy.

And that's just the recent stuff.

What about all those Children of the Corn movies? Did we ask for them? Again and again and again?

And what about M. Night Shyamalan's Signs? Where else are you gonna find malevolent aliens except in someone's corn field?

Yeah, I know there was corn in that nicey-nice Field of Dreams, too. But some of the ballplayers that came out of that corn were New York Yankees. Hello, Evil Empire?

Sure, I know the movie industry is to blame for those, but aren't movie studios owned by conglomerates?

And aren't all conglomerates evil?

See where I'm going with this?

You don't?

Yeah, me neither. But I'm sticking to peas and carrots all the same.

Stay tuned...

TRY ME

Where's the remote?

Actually, this would make a pretty good rant, especially coming from a family of five. Nobody ever puts the remote control back in the same spot so if you want to change a channel (or adjust the volume... or look at the TV listing... or beat someone silly with it) you have to do it the hard way, which is get off your butt (or move your ass... or get off your can... or make a fist and swing, but not after a manicure).

In some houses remote controls are never found in the same spot twice. I've heard of cat people finding it in the litter box. But then that's what happens when you make your cat watch Full House reruns.

Under the couch is another popular spot, as is beneath the cushions. Beneath the cushions is cool because you can always scrape up enough for a coffee by the time you're done. But under the couch is dangerous because you just never know what's living under there.

I mean, you ever see Poltergeist? Yeah, I know, that clown was under a bed. Well, nowadays everybody has a sofabed, so it counts.

Almost makes me wish for the old days of console TV's and external, wired converter boxes. But that was back in the seventies. And let's face it -- I want to find the seventies much less than I want to find the remote.

Polyester makes me itch.

Stay tuned...

L IS FOR LAWNMOWER... AND LADDER

So there's this guy who lives on my street. I've never met him, only seen him from afar. This is about his lawn. Simply put, I wish I had it.

His grass is smokin' (if you'll pardon the D.E.A. not-so approved pun). It's plainly obvious that he takes great care of it. He must mow it almost daily, because I don't think I've ever seen it grow. This is a guy who obviously is so passionate about his lawn he'd do Hank Hill proud. He has to have an endless supply of energy, unless he's paying a team of kids to keep things so neat and tidy.

And so comes the rub of the piece: his lawn is unbelievably nice (those recently mentioned dandelions wouldn't dare plant a root beneath it), and yet -- AND YET, I SAY -- he still has his Christmas lights hanging above the garage.

Not one set of lights, mind you, but two -- COUNT 'EM, TWO -- sets of lights. One is the "it was trendy ten years ago" icicle variety, and the other is the traditional energy draining bulb variety.

Maybe if he turned them on once in awhile -- and angled them into the garage -- he'd find his ladder.

If he really wants to impress me, the lawn is a good first step. A step upwards would be a good second.

Stay tuned...