If the shoefitis, wear it

For weeks I saw them dangling there, high above the intersection. But I had no idea why anyone would bother to toss not one but two pairs of sneakers onto the power lines that criss-cross Lisgar and O'Connor streets.

Then I stumbled across the term for this footwear phenomenon: shoefiti. It seems the dangling running shoes have been spotted everywhere from Australia to Poland.

What's it all about? Well, theories abound, from reassuringly innocent to downright disconcerting. Could be kids messing around. A sign that crack cocaine is sold in the neighbourhood. A gangland ritual to celebrate a murder. An act of dissent against government. Or, the most obvious explanation, a vivid illustration of New Wave polysemy.

And then there's this outlandish notion from Eric Nygren, quoted in the Indiana Daily Student. "It's pretty simple," Nygren said. "It's a stupid college thing people do. Somebody probably got drunk and thought it would be fun."

Publog Research: Preston Hardware

Fieldwork by the Research Director and Coyote, Easter Weekend 2007:

Pluses (Features to emulate)

• FREE! ESPRESSO! SHOTS!

Minuses (Features to Avoid)

• FREE! ESPRESSO! SHOTS! TO! COYOTES!

Summary: I realize we normally don't PuBlog non-food establishments, but the Research Director asked if I wanted to ride shotgun in the Bookmobile with him on a consumer survey. And he offered to roll down the window so that I could hang my tongue in the breeze. Really, he had me at "ride". As usual, I digress.

A serious round of research found us at Ottawa's shrine to hardcore hardware cognoscenti, viewing an automated espresso apparatus selling for many thousands of bonez. At the tap of a touchscreen, this gizmo automatically grinds fresh coffee onboard, tamps it into the filter and pumps espresso at a precise temperature and pressure into two demitasses, all untouched by human hands. (Huh. I can do that last part for a lot cheaper. Uh, I digress again.)

The knowledgeable salesperson explained these complexities, then showed it off and gave us FREE! ESPRESSO! SHOTS! -- This was coffee of a velvety blackness to make roadside Elvis painting hawkers weep, with perfect crema and a mellow richness that seems to be taken for granted at every little store along Preston Street, even as certain international chains that shall remain nameless sometimes struggle for the same effect. Gotta love Little Italy...

Ummmm. But. Somebody shoulda warned the sales guy. And the Research Director. I can't think who would be responsible for that.... The RD placed my FREE! ESPRESSO! SHOT! on the floor so I could slurp it. I slurped. I ran in circles. I peed on the Research Director's immaculately polished footwear. (Missed the pant leg, though. I'm proud of that.) Close readers of my solo project may recall that someone inadvertantly let me snarf down too much chocolate about a year ago. And that I reacted predictably badly. People, again: you should never feed a dog chocolate. Even a two-thousand-year-old, semimythical one. Apparently, we must add espresso to this list, too.

Moral: Free espression carries with it great responsibility...

Exploring Outer Space without a Spaceship

With the serious shortage of positions for trained space pirates, I've been forced to find creative ways to explore strange new worlds. This weekend, Coyote joined me on an inner solar system tour of Ottawa.

Lounging on Mercury

We started Friday evening with a voyage to the Mercury Lounge.

We arrived as the inhabitants were engaged in what is apparently a regular celebration they call World Beats and Eats.

Formalities at the entry port were easy, we simply exchanged currency and received a stamp. As we had no passports, they stamped our wrists.

Coyote and I pondered why the females were generally dressed much better than the males. Coyote said he'd heard that females dress for each other. I observed that I had no proof of this, but suspected it might be true of the males as well. Maybe the males deliberately dress like slobs so that other males will not assume they are gay and beat them up.

The Coffee Planet

Our next stop was Planet Coffee. All the natives were consuming a tasty warm beverage and we did our best to blend in. Coyote also ordered a lemon square (apparently sometimes a canine is not in the mood for biscotti). I ordered a Nanaimo bar. It turned out they don't have Nanaimo bars and the young woman taking our orders thought I also ordered a lemon square. This meant that I got a cheesecake square for the lower price of a lemon square.

While Coyote and I enjoyed our beverages, I teased him about his cousin Adrian in Chicago. Bad enough he was discovered and captured, but in a Quiznos!

Planet Ink and Universal Tattoo

Our orbital path home took us past both Planet Ink and Universal Tattoo, but we decided to save our explorations there for another day. Coyote seems to be particularly concerned that every part of his anatomy is heading towards flabby sag and therefore unsuitable for permanent markings.

Breakfast on Venus

Saturday morning the Research Director joined us at the Café Venus for a morning repast. We all enjoyed our breakfasts. I had to ask Coyote what type of meat he'd been given because I didn't recognize it. "Sausage," he told me. As a space explorer, you have to be prepared for this sort of thing: sausage that is flat and rectangular.

We had a wide-ranging discussion. The others were intrigued by my discovery of the PlentyofFish dating service where they make the users do a Meyers-Briggs personality test before they let them search for potential mates. As an ENTJ, this makes excellent sense to me. God forbid I should wind up with and E or I SFP.

Another feature of the PlentyofFish that we all found amusing is that people can specify criteria that others must meet in order to send them messages and one that women seem to often choose is "Must not have messaged users looking for intimate encounters or sex."

Apparently, these women live on a planet where they have a chance of finding a man who has never been interested in casual sex.

[The Ottawa Solar System Map]

The Great Pretender

Hey everyone. Let’s go clubbing! Seal clubbing, that is. As most Canadians don’t know, this marks the start of the annual seal cull. Europeans seem to be more aware of this Canadian tradition than us. If you didn’t catch it, former Pretenders uber-babe Chrissie Hynde waded into the protest with an online piece in the Globe and Mail.

I loved the Pretenders. And Chrissie Hynde was the best thing in tight leather pants in 1980’s. My grand-father clubbed seals to make a living and provide for his family in an isolated out-port on the east coast. But my grandpa was also a sucker for a pretty face from what I remember. Too bad he isn’t around to see the latest celebrity to come to the rescue.

If Ms. Hynde had been around in his heyday and showed up in those tight pants and asked him to stop clubbing those cute little harp seals, he probably would’ve obliged. That’s just the way grandpa was when it came to requests from certain hotties.

Emergency Meeting: Monday, April 2

Called by: Eigga
Venue: The Usual Spot
Present: The Independent Observer, Eigga, Coyote, Fourth Dwarf, The Chair, Conch Shell
Guest: Painted Stick
Food: Soup, Burger
Beverages: Beer, Coke, {redacted}
Major Topics Discussed: New directions for the blog, Post-traumatic unbloggability, A special project
Major Topics Neglected: Shortlist of names for new Rideau Canal pedestrian bridge
Overall: A dreary start to the meeting, but then candid and vigorous exchanges about sex
Minutes by: The IO

Discussion ensues as to whether the meeting should a. even be taking place b. be moved to a different venue.

There is much intermittent debate about whether the blog should take on a new direction.

The Chair: This blog is always trying to find a new direction!

Dissection of gathering Saturday at a different venue where The Chair, in the company of his mother and Fourth Dwarf, witnesses a disturbing incident. The same evening, a barfly hits on his mother, which he finds only mildly disconcerting.

4D chides The Chair for not blogging the episode.

I was too traumatized! The Chair insists. Besides, he adds, I can't blog when I'm hanging with {redacted}.

How are the readership numbers? The blog is drawing 35 visitors a day, says The Chair.

Someone notes that we probably collectively account for the 35 daily hits.

No, says The Chair, these are visits by people other than the ESIs and their virtual posse.

Dwarf notes that a certain local blogger, {redacted}, is doing much better.

An eyebrow or two arch upwards.

Coyote raises the question of SRW tags.

Dwarf: I don't even know what you're talking about.

It turns out SRW stands for Self-referential wanking.

Ideas to help the blog: More revealing titles, more frequent posts, swapping of posting days.

Conch Shell's absence is noted. The IO says the attendance of CS and PS is a 51 to 49 per cent possibility. The Chair puts the possibility at 10 per cent. Fourth Dwarf pegs it at zero.

Conch Shell and Painted Stick arrive.

Other ideas to help the blog: Animated profiles of the ESIs a la Rocket Robin Hood, more sex, theme weeks, adhering to the one-screen rule, sensitively metablogging the {redacted} who is about to begin a blog.

Digressions:

(*) It is observed that tambourines make good tip bowls.

(*) Fourth Dwarf, whose employment prospects appear uncertain, announces he is investigating the colour of his parachute.

(*) Eigga asks about a previous gathering, and whether anyone picked up a vibe that {redacted} was {redacted} the {redacted} woman.

CS: Yes

4D: He was trying to work his mojo.

CS: Do {redacted} people tend to just naturally put their arms around one another?

There is no consensus.

(*) There is, however, agreement that holding the Junos in Saskatchewan was a grave mistake.

(*) PS asks to be completely redacted. His request is denied.

It is decided there will be ESI Theme Weeks, each with the prefix Dysfunctional. For instance, Dysfunctional Ottawa Culture Week.

There is subsequently much talk of a special ESI project, which raises the following questions:

(*) Do we need a lawyer?

(*) Should it be a {redacted} or a {redacted}?

(*) When should we tell {redacted}?

(*) Should the project simply focus on CB Radio culture?

Additional digressions:

(*) Each of the ESIs should have MySpace and Facebook pages.

(*) The new gmail sign-in procedure is a major pain.

Final thoughts on the special project:

(*) Should Will Ferrell be involved? Scarlett Johansson? Colin Firth?

(*) Agreed: First, we need a {redacted}.