Les Bonnes Choses

It has come to my attention that some people are woefully ignorant of the commonlaw practice of yoink. 'Yoink', for the uninitiated, is the phrase, accepted in most Western jurisdictions, that legitimizes certain classes of theft that are about to be perpetrated. For example, a tray of cookies sits on a table for a meeting that has not yet begun. You enter the room, full of witnesses. A cookie, l'objet du désir, has not been offered. Declaring 'yoink' as you grab a cookie allows you to escape the consequences that would normally follow such a blatant theft.

I have personally confirmed from Pat that this practice extends as far Southwest as California, and from Jeff that yoinking is also practiced at least as far Northeast as Montreal. I have yet to verify whether it is also practiced along the Eastern seaboard, or indeed in Europe, though because of the similarities between our legal systems, I would not be surprised to find the yoink practiced in Western Europe.

It is important to note the specific exclusions provided in yoink commonlaw. First, kidnapping cannot be legitimized by a yoink. Babies, can be yoinked for a short period of time, but only if the yoinked child is kept in the same room as its parent (the yoinking of an infant who has just filled its diaper is, in fact, welcome). The charge of grand theft also supersedes yoink commonlaw, and thus vehicles, jewellery, and other high-value items are also not typically subject to yoinking.

This concludes today's expert legal advice column. Be sure to read next week's column to learn how "woob-woob-woob" in the voice of Larry Fine allows one to avoid the charge of reckless endangerment that would otherwise follow the execution of dangerous stunts.

I'm presently sitting in a round egg chair, hoping to passively restore shape to my bum, and undo all the flattening that happened over the course of all the driving I've done since Friday. I'm back in London for a few days for a wedding between good friends that happened this weekend. What with all that driving, I've had plenty of time over the last 72 hours to think, and have thought of at least three things that would make great blog topics. And right now I can't seem to remember a single one of them. Or maybe I can, but, upon sober second thought, no longer see how I might draw it out into a multiparagraph entry. The only thing that comes to mind right now is that I have recently redoubled (I guess that means it's an exponential function) my efforts to instill into Jude a healthy aversion to germs. A month ago, he experienced some gastrointestinal discomfort, plausibly related to eating a peanut-butter covered saltine cracker that had fallen to the ground at the Chicago zoo that day. The sore tummy remains a salient memory, and I took advantage of it to tell him about how bugs get on your hands and into your tummy, and that these bugs don't like soap. After only a day's worth of training, Jude now routinely scrubs down his hands and forearms, up to his elbow, like he's prepping for surgery. And just last week, we were listening to Chicago Public Radio as Jude helped me prepare dinner. On one program, they were talking about bacteria, which I told Jude was the name for the bugs that make your tummy hurt. Naturally, after learning about BACteria, he asked about FRONTeria.

We're in the US Midwest, which comes with a number of subtle differences from Southwestern Ontario. For one, they're in the Central timezone. This timezone sucks. Why? Because, as a market, it doesn't merit its own broadcast schedule. The Eastern timezone, containing the entire Eastern seaboard gets the network news at 6:30, filler crap like Wheel of Fortune and Entertainment Tonight at 7:00 with primetime running from 8:00 to 11:00 for the late night news. The Central timezone gets the same programming, but one hour earlier. I suppose for those holiday cartoon specials that I remember from my childhood, that could be a good thing because the kiddies don't have Charlie Brown as an excuse to stay up late. Not that I watch much primetime television, but if I did, I'd find it irritating to have to rush through dinner and cleanup in order to catch the opening scenes of my favourite series.

Yes, favourite. Not favorite. Another subtle difference -- one that I relish when I send out memos or leave notes. I'll spend an extra minute or two trying to think of synonyms just so that I can use words that use a 'u' in the British/Canadian spelling that does not appear in the American spelling.

Finally, we have the midwest accent. Or 'eayccent'. It's not quite as pronounced (to my ear, at least) nor come with the same dim stereotype as a 'Sathern' drawl, but it's apparently noticable enough that, while visiting a store today, Rebecca was mortified when Jude asked why "the lady asked if she could open theyat for us?" Yes, 'that' has two syllables here.

I begin by presenting the price per ounce of a number of liquids, gathered from various sources on the internet:

• Molten gold: $1016.20 per ounce


• LSD: $120 per ounce


• Inkjet ink: $40 per ounce


• Human blood: $11.83 per ounce


• Soy sauce: $.12 per ounce


• Chocolate syrup: $.10 per ounce

My final bill from Rogers came in the mail yesterday. It sat, opened and exposed to the elements, on my dining room table for part of the day. I had noticed by bedtime that the heading on the page had become smudged. I didn't think much of it at the time, but it occurred to me this morning to take a closer look at the bill whereupon I saw every indication that the bill I was holding was printed out on an inkjet printer.

Now, if you go into any Staples/Office Depot/whatever, and ask for help selecting a printer, the nice young man with the popped collar and frosted tips will ask what you need it for. If you were to say something like, "oh, I just want to print off some pictures and maybe directions from the internet", then you might be directed to any number of nice inexpensive inkjet printers. If, on the other hand, you said, "oh, I run a multimillion dollar telecommunication company and need to send multipage bills to a hundred thousand households," well, the store associate will either advise you to purchase a high-volume laser printer, or else MacGyver the machines to print in human blood, which, as you can see from the list above, would result in a 75% savings over the lifespan of the printer. It might be more appropriate, too. Damn leeches.

Here's a bunch of mini entries. Unfortunately, nothing happened today that merits a grand narrative, so you will have to pick and choose from among them. They won't all be winners, but they're sufficiently small that any duds won't leave a bad taste in your mouth. Last thing I want is some nasty reply from ingrates like my sister or Effamy.

1. Jude quote of the day: "Daddy, I want some more broccoli."
   I would typically be on the lookout for something a little more amusing in the way of Jude quotes, but a child requesting more broccoli is really worth mentioning.



2. It's taken me 35 years, but I finally have a bunk bed. I came home early today to assemble it. I think I may change things up and sleep on a top bunk tonight, just for kicks. Jude likes making forts out of pillows and blankets, and having a top bunk from which to hang blankets is going to make our forts both more elabourate and easier to build.



3. Fortunately, the Jude quote of the day is not a repetition of the expletive he heard me say when putting the bunk bed together. He tried to repeat it, but said something that sounded more like "Daddy, why did you say shut?". I told him it was because I couldn't close the pieces together.



4. I have been using Chex mix for breading for the last two months. It is absolutely brilliant on fish. I discovered it by accident in August when I was lacking anything else that I could grind up into crumbs.



5. Finally: net neutrality: yay! Rogers/Shaw monopolies and collusion: boo! Or, should I say "oops"?

It's just after 5pm here in Evanston, and our buddy Amy should be over shortly to look after les messieurs so that Rebecca and I can go out to Koi for dinner. Nothing good ever hits the theatres anymore (though I think I would like to see the new Ricky Gervais movie coming out in a couple of weeks called The Invention of Lying), so it'll be an early Friday birthday night for us.

In preparation, I have just finished making dinner for Amy and Jude: macaroni and cheese (with peas for nutrition and bacon for tastiness). Rebecca grated a metric boat-load of cheese, which I turned into the most amazing cheese sauce I have ever made. I used most of it in the macaroni, with about 1/2 cup remaining. We're eating it with corn tortilla chips right now. It's really good. I kind of want to skip going out and just eat this cheese sauce for my birthday dinner.

I figured I should make one last post before I become decidedly in my mid-thirties. Assuming I can make it to 70, I should be up for a mid-life crisis this year. Unfortunately, I get to spend tomorrow fretting about a three minute talk I have to give on my research. I remember in fourth grade when we had to do public speaking that a minute seemed like an eternity, and when shorter was better. How times have changed. Three minutes is not a lot of time to describe twelve to eighteen months' work and, I believe more importantly, persuade the audience that they should care.

What will I get in return? Rebecca and I are probably just going out for dinner while Amy entertains les messieurs chez nous.

And on that note, I'm going to bed, so that I can wake up elderly but refreshed.