Good morning class,

I am visiting your psychology 101 class today to tell you about iPods and the new and fascinating field of research that they have allowed me to get rich from/educate people about. Although the great iPod boom happened way back in Christmas of 2005, the past five years have yielded a number of interesting new psychoses related, interestingly enough not only to iPods, but to all personal music players, both external and implanted. Of course, the new iPod Microbe has just been released, and in depth studies into its emotional damage are yet to come to light in the greater academic community. That being said, however, the trauma that can come from implanted technology has become very clear, as in the memorable case of Gates vs. the American Federation of Senior Citizens (it seems that illegal downloading of Windows Pacemaker, 2007 beta’s side effects are not attributable to Gates himself, although the decision is still working through the courts).

At any rate, you will find more in depth analysis of the following condition in my book “iPodosis: The iPod and the Mental Landscape”, available now at all three fine independent bookstores left in Ontario.

iPod Envy
Characterised by the strong desire to compare iPods with everyone who is using one within eyesight. Can lead to feelings of inadequacy in those using older generation iPods or iPod Shuffles.

iPod Self Loathing
IPod self-loathing can occurs when the iPod user is overwhelmed with dissatisfaction with all the music on his or her iPod. Non-treated iADD can lead to iPod self-loathing. IPod self-loathing can lead to a user switching to regular radio, where the selection is truly random, or in severe cases, the subject can be heard to sing loud songs of their invention which often sound like The Strokes.

Seasonal Affective iPod Disorder
Occurring mainly around the Christmas Season, seasonal affective iPod disorder usually manifesting itself two months before the season actually begins. The condition is characterized by the subject listening to overly jolly music sometime in late September or October. Subject suffering from severe cases can be seen shopping for Christmas decorations in early October while humming “Santa Clause is Coming to Town”. There have been documented cases of “The Thong Song” being sung in March and “November Rain” being whistled in August.

iADD
IPod Attention Deficit Disorder is often accompanied by frequent switching of songs, often shuffling through over one hundred songs in five minutes. It has had its effects felt throughout the music industry with the rise of short punchy songs (a la Franz Ferdinand) and the fall of classic rock (such as Led Zeppelin).

iPod Anti-Social Tendencies
Many experiments have been carried out with laboratory mice to study this particular disorder. The studies have shown that large groups of mice, each attached to their own iPod device, will have trouble relating and organizing in large groups. When tested in the cheese maze, many of the mice simple walked quickly in one direction until they either hit a wall or ran into another mouse, after which the mice changed direction and walked quickly in a different direction, seemingly at random. No mouse attached to an iPod has ever found the cheese leading to speculation about the relationship between iPods and desire for gratification/pleasure in mice. No conclusive human testing has been approved.

iPavlov
Subjects who are frequent iPod gym goers have been observed to move faster and sweat more when listening to their iPods outside of the gym setting.

iGod complex
The iGod complex had two separate indicators which have not yet been clearly separated since they often appear together. IGod manifests itself in the idea that while listening to an iPod, the subject is invincible and will frequently walk into traffic and bump into much larger people without excuse. The second indicator was discovered by Dr. Isaac McLorken when a test subject suddenly threw his iPod at Dr. McLorken. Upon questioning the subject, it was discovered that iPod users will often associate ideas of immortality with their iPods.

Repressed iPod Anger
Repressed iPod anger is rare and is often found in conjunction with the iGod complex. Subjects with iPod anger can be observed to throw their iPods at perceived enemies. IPod Minis are the most often used in this exercise as their solid metal casing makes them ideal projectiles.

iPod Mothering
Users of iPods who swaddle their devices in two inches of padding and protection, often containing Kevlar coating and asbestos insulation, are victims of iPod Mothering. A strong and irrational desire to protect and preserve their iPod can lead certain victims of iPod mothering to become iShut-ins (a field which has been much looked at by Dr. McLorken)

Of course, with any new disorder, there is a bevy of suitable medication that can be applied in various ways. If you or anyone you know suffers from any or all of the above symptoms, there is a twenty-four hour cure. The subject is isolated in a completely soundproof room for a full twenty four house, after which an appreciation for silence and an understanding of the need for human contact are regained.

Please, if you have any questions, come and see me after the class, or buy my book. It is also available in iBook format for download onto your iPods from my website. Thanks for listening, and good mental health to you all.

Post-script:
I like post-scripts.

I am a proud iPod owner – I have a Mini and I have thrown it at someone – actually a car that was trying to run me over as I was exercising my iGod complex. My Mini has a chip on its shoulder to proove it. So is K. – who has a Nano, which I am iEnvious of!

We’re all crazy in some way or another and these iPod neuroses are just one more way that we can relate to each other, know each other, and bind the fabric of our society with. So go! Get an iPod – or a reasonable facsimile, and join the movement. If we make these conditions the norm, then normal people will be the crazy ones. And who will be laughing then? Probably the ones listening to a random Phil Ochs tune, and not those engaged in “reality”.

Take care.

D.

Posted by D. at Monday, January 16, 2006 | Permalink | Comments

Chapter The First - Pedro's Knocking OR The Socks Will Have To Wait!

So there I was, looking forward to another nice and quiet weekend, when my good friend, Pedro (all names have been cleverly changed to preserve some shred of anonymity), comes crashing onto my desktop with frantic MSN messages about space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt. My sock drawer REALLY needed to be cleaned and organized, however, and I knew that to be a full two days worth of work, so I had to respectfully tell Pedro that saving the world would have to wait. Much to my surprise, however, I was informed that the aliens weren’t here to kill us all, but rather to sell cheep Tupperware. I immediately packed my bags because if I can avoid paying $99.95 for molded plastic, I would willingly brave the unknown. I dropped my socks and ran straight to Pedro’s house.

The first thing we had to do was get ourselves equipped. Although the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt were purported to be harmless, we figured it was better to be safe than sorry. The first thing we had to do was head for the local army surplus / dollar store.

Now that we were appropriately attired, there was only one last stop to make before we could head off. Our old friend and mentor, Superman, would undoubtedly have a few nuggets of wisdom to pepper us with, having fought aliens on a number of occasions, not to mention the fact that he is himself and alien. Luckily, I had my tape recorder with me, so I was able to record the conversation, which I will transcribe for you verbatim, exaclty as it happened, no word of a lie.

Knock, knock.

Superman: Ah! Pedro, and D.! Please, enter my classy downtown condominium of solitude.

Pedro and D.: Thanks, Superman.

Superman: I’ve told you before, please just call me Man, or The Man, you prefer.

D.: Thanks, Man.

Pedro: Yeah, thanks, man.

Man: Well, I was just reading the paper, about to organize my sock drawer, but what can I do for you?

D.: Oh, Man! Don’t get me started on sock drawers, I’ve been trying to get to mine for months!

Man: Me too. But, you know, life just keeps getting in the way. You’d think with super powers, I would be able to find the time.

Pedro: Why don’t you hire a maid?

Man: Well, I thought about it, but I hate the idea of someone else in my place all the time, and I’d feel weird wearing the spandex all day if someone else were here, and I love to wear the spandex. It takes me back. Besides, Lex is still trying to get at me somehow, although he’s mostly confined to that mason jar. But he's still dangerous! But what can I do for you? Wheel of Fortune is about to start. Love that Vana White. Fine slice of cake, isn't she?

D.: Well, she might have been, but she’s getting on in years.

Man: When you’ve been fighting evil as long as I have, D., you learn to appreciate a mature woman. Besides, my journalist fetish is starting to wear thin. Those dolls ain’t what they used to be.

Pedro: Man, we’re headed off to buy Tupperware from space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt. We’ve got plastic multi-action artillery with real sound, but we need some advice. We figured that since you were so old, you might have some?

Man: Well, Pedro, if there’s one thing I’ve learnt in recent years, it’s that no matter how super you are, eventually, everyone needs a little help.

Luckily, Pedro had brought his paint supplies and painted this picture while we were taking, complete with The Man’s inspirational quote. Now, no one can dispute our story.

Chapter The Second - Beer and Nails OR How I Leant To Stop Worrying and listen to Rock Stars

We had everything we needed at that point, and we were ready to go. Since the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt were in Montreal, and we were in Ottawa, we decided that the best way to travel the 180km was by rocket. Obviously, it was not the most practical, but we both agreed that it was by far the most appropriate. Luckily, the 20:20 direct to downtown was about to leave.

As soon as we arrived, Pedro remembered that he forgot the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt’s cell number on his end table. It was Friday night, and they were only in town until Sunday, which seemed to be plenty of time for us to find them, I mean they would stand out, right? It didn’t take us long to realize that people in Montreal are pretty weird at the best of times and that we had our work cut out for us. Our first step had to be to get good and drunk so we could start fresh in the morning, so off we headed to the nearest public house to mingle with the locals.

A couple of ale’s into the evening, Pedro started getting anxious about finding the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt, and stumbled off to ask some of the patrons if they knew where we might find them. He returned to our table about an hour later with a black eye, three phone numbers, and tickets to the Nine Inch Nails concert. When I asked him who gave him the tickets, he pointed to an empty corner of the bar. He claimed that there was a tall, skinny, big headed dude with a bad moustache and a trench coat who said that the tickets could help us. We immediately ran off the concert to see what we could find out - after finishing the six pints that Pedro also brought back with him.

It became obvious that there was a strong connection between the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt and Nine Inch Nails. Pedro told me that the incubators that they used were very similar to the stage props and that the lights were part of their complex and ancient mating ritual. At this point, I was glad to be standing, let alone make sense of the world. It all seemed very probable to me.

We decided that we definitely needed to get backstage to talk to Trent Reznor and find out if he knew where the Tupperware party was. Luckily, the guy with the list wasn’t too bright. We told him that our names were Candy and Bubbles and that we were here to see Trent. After checking with the band, we were ushered into the back room to find five sweaty middle aged rock stars looking at us like we had no heads.

“Candy and Bubbles are our nicknames. I love candy, nerds especially, and Pedro loves his bubble bath soap.” I explained.

“My nickname is actually Bunny,” came a surprising reply from Trent. “I bit the head off one because Ozzy told me that decapitating small animals with your mouth was good for your mental clarity. Luckily, I stopped at one. I can’t say the same for poor old Ozzy. Come in, tell me more about candy and bubbles.”

“Actually, Mr. Reznor, we are here about the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt. Do you know where we can find them?” asked Pedro.

“Me? No. But I do know who can. Go to this address,” he said handing us a small card. “They know all about them and the nefarious evil they bring.”

“Don’t you mean ‘the cheep Tupperware they bring’?” asked Pedro.

“Make no mistake, the Tupperware is a ruse. They true purpose is much worse,” he replied.

On that note, we made our excuses and left. Pedro didn’t know what this business about evil was all about, but I told him to keep his head up and imagine the prospects of keeping celery fresh and crisp for weeks on end.

It was at this point that we realized that we hadn’t remembered to find a place for us to crash for the night. Our only option was to stay awake and wander the streets. The best thing to do, we decided, was to buy a lot of booze at “le dépanneur” and find an appropriate park bench. Since the benches were only made for one, we split up. I have to admit that I don’t remember the rest of the evening, but I woke up in an alley drooling on a very strange homemade sign.

I don’t know who “Gaylord” is, nor do I know why he is the 29th. I still maintain that it is not me since a) it was not my birthday b) my handwriting isn’t as legible and c) I am philosophically opposed to carrying any such sign, whether it be a sandwich board, a foam hand, or spray painted sheet. Pedro ended up sharing his bench but he claims to have no memory of the evening either. One thing’s for sure, however: there’s nothing better than that first cigarette in the morning.

Chapter The Third - Pedro and D VS The Aliens OR In The Morning After The Music

As soon as we had finished breakfast, after walking around for a few hours to get the circulation going, doing a bit of shopping, and taking in a few of the local sights, we resumed our quest to locate the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt and get cheap Tupperware. The building that we found at the address that Trent Reznor gave us was an old “Masonic Memorial Temple” located at the foot of Mt. Royal. We walked up the door and knocked.

“Who goes there” came a high pitched voice. Pedro and I looked around to see if there was an intercom or something that we might reply to, but there was nothing in the smooth stone of the temple.

“We’re here about the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt” replied Pedro, uncertain but very loud so that we could be heard through the heavy doors.

“There’s no need to yell!” said another high pitched voice. This time, we could tell that the voice came from above us. We looked up, but only saw a few pigeons.

“I hope we don’t get shat on” I remarked to Pedro. I have a slight fear of being shat on by birds. Actually, I have a slight fear of being shat on by anything. Actually, it’s not so much a fear as it is a strong aversion.

“We’d only do that if you keep talking about us as if we weren’t here” came the high pitched voice again. “What purpose do you have in seeking out the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt anyway?”

“Well, we want the cheap Tupperware, of course” replied Pedro, still obviously trying to figure out if the birds were actually talking to us, or if I had slipped him some LSD with his coffee.

“Sarcasm will get you nowhere, heroes. Yet your purpose is clear to us. Enter, and your quest to save those innocent lives will begin!” said the bird. The doors opened and we were greeted by the strangest pair of people we had ever met, and keep in mind that we just met some talking pigeons.

“What the crap…” I said to Pedro as quietly as I could.

“I don’t know D. …”

“Just because I have a Ken doll head and my wife is make of wood doesn’t mean we can’t hear, dumbasses!” said the odd looking fiddle player. “And before you ask, the evil space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt did this to us. They aren’t here to sell Tupperware, they are here to turn us into cheap busker acts for their home planet.”

Ken, which was his actual name by a strange cosmic coincidence, proceeded to explain to us all about his years battling the evil space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt, and his final defeat and narrow escape.

“If it wouldn’t have been for that bag of instant popcorn, the three pennies in my pocket, and the solar eclipse, I would be well on my way to beyond the asteroid belt to pretend to play this fiddle while my wife pretended to dance” he explained.

“That’s all very interesting” I said, “but how to we get our Tupperware?”

“There is no Tupperware, but I can help you find the evil space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt’s ship and you can save the rest of their captive before they take off” said Ken.

“Hey, whatever will bring us to the Tupperware” said Pedro. “Where is the ship?”

“To find it, you will need a bird’s eye view” said Ken. “Come outside with me.”

We followed him outside where, with no warning whatsoever, he threw some power at Pedro and turned him into a bird.

“Now go fly around and you will undoubtedly see their ship” explained Ken.

As it turned out, the ship was fairly easy to find, and we had to wonder why the locals hadn’t noticed it already. We headed off immediately after Pedro was returned to normal because we knew that the best Tupperware would go fast.

As we approached the ship, the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt started to fire lasers at us. We knew that we would have to get closer to the ship to explain that all we wanted was Tupperware, and that they could have all the buskers they needed, but the lasers only intensified as we got closer. We knew that we needed a ruse clever enough to have been thought up for a Star Wars movie –at least twice, with the same character. In order to get close to our goal, we needed to have a decoy prisoner.

We set off in search of a suitable busker in the streets on Montreal. Thankfully, we needn’t have looked far. We found “Franko the Somewhat Interesting yet Mediocre” at the nearest town square. He was a perfect candidate because he was just about the light himself on fire in frustration with the lack on interest in his “art”.

After we told him that there was a captive audience of space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt (we left out the evil stuff, of course) just waiting to bring him back to their cute little planet, he was all for it. We found some handcuffs and chains, and off we went.

As we neared the spaceship, a loud voice came booming over the laser blasts, asking us what the crap we wanted. We told it that we had a peace offering, a very talented and underappreciated busker that they could take in exchange for some cheap Tupperware. The space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt were very willing to acquire this new trophy for their planet and let us through to their ship. The lead us pas a large gallery of buskers, street clowns, mimes, musical groups, and human statues until they showed us into a room full of cheep Tupperware. They gave us our pick of as much Tupperware as we could carry, which we greedily accepted.

To this day, I am thankful to the space aliens from beyond the asteroid belt. I am now able to make as many leftovers as I want and keep all kinds of fruits and veggies safe. There kindness was outstanding, even if they did have a bit a weird street performer collection fetish, but hey, who’s perfect.

Postscript OR Explanatory Note:
All of these events occurred exactly as they were detailed, somewhere, at sometime (said place and time may include, but is not limmited to “in my head” and “on another plane of existence"). This adventure is being posted mainly to showcase the creative and skillful photography of Pedro (some of which I massacred by cropping and bad copy-and-pasting) with whom I spent a really cool weekend in Montreal, seeing Nine Inch Nails and the Leafs – Habs game (which the Habs sadly lost in overtime). None of the other people in the pictures were asked for their permission, and any artwork photographed was done in blatant infringement of a number of copyright laws, I’m sure, but who cares. It’s not like I make any money off this crazy page.
Thanks for a great weekend, PF, DR, and K!

D.

Posted by D. at Sunday, January 15, 2006 | Permalink | Comments

Pre-script:
I wrote this entry on the train home after Christmas, around the 28th of December.

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As I sit here pondering the landscape of middle-Ontario, returning from my all-too brief visit with my family for the holiday season, I begin to wonder what will happen in the coming year. Of course, by my very nature, my ponderings begin with introspection. Inspired by the planning that K and I have begun to do on a regular basis, I’ve set aside a detailed plan for the year’s finances and goals. But it occurred to me after I laid everything in that MS Word table that the plan only represents what is bare and basic about the future. What aren’t in the plan are the little things. Much to K’s frustration, I tend towards the little things, the small details of life, the universe, and everything. I’ve always felt that I had better control over those types of details. And so the plan I’ve made seems a bit airy and hollow because I am not used to thinking in those terms. At this point, reader, you are probably thinking that these large things I am talking about are anything but elusive and insubstantial. Rest assured that this is a lesson that I am learning rather quickly.

The large things in life are the ones that I’ve always thought of as out of my control – or, to put that more honestly, they are the things that I’ve always either let other people worry about, or just allowed to happen naturally without too much interference on my part. Luckily enough, the big things that I’ve let go have worked in my favour, so far. I have a fantastic life complete with love, friendship, and stability – and I haven’t had to sacrifice any of my set-in ways. I am still able to sit and play video-games when I feel like it. I can spend an evening watching television if I choose. I can go out and get a good meal, or have one brought to the apartment within half an hour. I have the most understanding and thoughtful girlfriend in the world, not to mention the most beautiful, kind, and intelligent. Hell, even our cats are well behaved and perfect. I’ve got a good job where I get to work with good people and learn good things. I have an education – which in any form is something that we can often take for granted. I have a good roof over my head and many nice things.

So far, most of this has been effortless. Whether this is the result of surrounding myself with good people, or the ingrained effects of a great upbringing (thanks Mom and Dad), I cannot tell. Although I have worked hard when I have had to, I am not naïve enough to think that my hard work alone has earned these things just as I am sure that my luck is not boundless. I am at an interesting junction in life. I’ve just ended the student phase and I am, for the first time, completely in charge of my fate – which is to say that there is no one who will tell me that I have to have this paper finished by Tuesday, or an exam on Friday, or that I will graduate next June, for example. It is a time that I have always thought would be a great and happy time, and my expectations have been met. The one thing that I got dead wrong was that it will be a time of leisure.

During my life as a student, I always looked forward to having “free-time” when I could go out for beers, vegetate, watch television, and generally do what I want. I always found this amid the scarce work I did in my undergrad degree. I always had a summer job (except for that one unfortunate summer), and so I was always kept busy. All along, I was under the impression that once I finished university, I would be able to live my life. As a student who didn’t worry about the little things, I never bothered to spend time learning things that would be needed in the future. I never read “The Wealthy Barber”, I never learnt to do my taxes, I never read to learn anything outside of the classroom. Since I didn’t change any of this, the past eight months have been a study in how not to transition from student (dependent) to adult (independent). The past few weeks, however, have been an eye opening time. A great friend recently made it clear how much need I was in of a reestablishment of my priorities, goals, and wants in life. When faced with questions of the future, it was easy as a student to say “things will be different when I graduate” or “it all depends on what I do when I finish” and in my fashion, I would exacerbate this trap by not thinking of the big things.

Of course, there are no definite life changing dates anymore for me, except for the ones I set myself. No one is going to tell me that I need to do this or that, and if I want to get ahead in life, I had better figure out how to do it myself. I have no one to look to or to blame for the way the next 80-plus years (hooray for modern medicine!) of my life will turn out but me. So not only do I have to figure out how to make my life better, I have to start to give back and make the lives of those around me better as well. The same great friend mentioned above also showed me the value of giving, trying in vain to show this to me for years and years, and leading by example. I think I’ve figured it out. I think I’ve come to understand the greatest big thing there is to think about, and that is that I have a life to live. It is high time that I start to take it into my own hands and live it as best I can, as kindly as I can, as generously as I can, as intelligently as I can, and as quickly as I can. I have precious few short years to get my act together before I again change from being an independent to something far greater.

D.

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Post-script:
Since then, I have not played any video games and I have put in action much of the revelations that came to light during this meditation - I think. Here's to 361 more great days.

Posted by D. at Wednesday, January 04, 2006 | Permalink | Comments