Complements

I just love how my precious soul-stealing mechanical creature draws eyes and words of admiration, fascination, and curiosity. I love how it’s a conversation starter, apart from how great the pics are.

However, sometimes when someone first notices my camera, they start making remarks like how expensive film is, and how they gave it up, even though I’m carrying a nice camera. Are they complementing me? No. They’re trying to diss me for my chosen medium, which is film. They are the occasional idiots who, for some reason beyond the bounds of logic, tries to target me, who talk about shit that has nothing to do with what I specifically do. To say things like “it’s expensive” isn’t a complement. Why’re they telling me this? Don’t they care about the quality of my work, what kind of photos I take? No. They don’t give a shit.

It’s like that idiot on the streetcar who, after asking me about what film format my 16mm camera was, goes on babbling asking why are they that width, who gets to decide what widths they are, blah blah blah. Excuse me, but why are you fucking talking to me to begin with? Are you going to ask me about what kind of films I’m making? Or like the owner of that dilapidated art “store” who, when I asked him about a scalpel to do collage work, the fist words that came out of his mouth were, to paraphrase, so I could use it as a weapon. So that’s the reason why his store looks like shit: some clearly mentally and emotionally unstable, paranoid ancient Asian guy starts implying that I’m some sinister shady fuck, and for no reason. He makes such a repulsive suggestion based on what? The fact I asked for a mere scalpel for collage work I was interested in doing until that very moment.

Here’s a thought, a policy: if you don’t like the fact that I’ve chosen to shoot on film, don’t talk to me. If you’re not interested in what kind of photography I do, don’t talk to me. If you’re going to act all obnoxious about it, shut up, and leave me alone.

Left Hanging

I’m so sick of false promises, of failure, of missed opportunities, chances and deadlines, of being whipped and flogged by those close to me.

Not just by those who are of my own blood, one of whom ironically forced me, through deceit and manipulation of my incredible stress and fear and mental anguish (holding me financially hostage, exploiting my lack of any money and her unwillingness to spend hers on anything decent and necessary), to rely on Legal Aid for my defence . . . while she buys a condo for herself on a mortgage of a quarter of a million dollars, even though she already owns more than two houses (every time someone tells me how “lucky” I am to be inside a condo instead of being at least represented by someone who would put up a fight on my behalf in a court of law, who could’ve gotten me out early but also fought tooth and nail for my rights and my innocence, I very badly want to tear out their fucking jaw, slowly and painfully, watching their eyes screaming, in such a manner that they would only fear me, so that they’d never say such disgusting callous horse-shit to me again, especially to my face), then in November 2011, mysteriously puts a deposit of a meagre $3000 towards a lawyer she chose, allegedly on my behalf yet in reality without my knowledge . . . and never told me about it for months. By the time I found out about this, it was too late for him to use him for my appeals.

Not just by the illiterate, serial-quitting lawyers that were hired by Legal Aid, one of whom, Garth Buitenhuies, was severely mentally ill and stole documents, refusing to return them to me for a full 3.5 years (and only returned it when he was told to do so by my negligent, procrastinating granny), and everyone knew it, including the prosecutor, who took advantage of it to push her own agenda, and my granny, who literally prevented me from firing him even though she wasn’t the client, while the other lawyer was manifestly sleazy, lazy, incompetent and all-round greaseball who was in trouble with the Law Society in 2007 and 2008 for fraud and forgery (and plead guilty to all charges, yet didn’t lose his license), and yet despite his disastrous role in my affairs by completely selling me out without reading a single damn line of documentation, he was hired by the same granny to handle my sister’s divorce matters.

Not just by any supposed council in that deserted wasteland of a former province of mine that is taking a fucking long-ass time to find, with a lack of any prompt and proper resources to back me to find someone at least decent, and that almost all of them being from Saskatoon, literally defend the actions of these assholes despite the obvious evidence pointing out how incompetent and inadequate they were in defending me, and how illegal and unethical their actions were, as well as their shitty advice. I just want someone so I can let them do the dirty work while I can get back to creating. Yet I’m barely finished with even explaining anything to these people, and they just reject my request outright, judging without having everything in front of them. Over and over again.

But by those who call themselves my friends. Specifically those in Saskatchewan. Nevermind the ones I got here, they’ve got nothing to do with this rant.

Every one of those lazy, negligent, indifferent, time-wasting fucks in Saskatchewan, though, I want to punish for their slacking and fucking around, failing to help, and pissing me off every time I open my mouth. One of them, who was supposed to be a witness but was dismissed by Garth for absolutely no reason, was and is unwilling to write down her testimony or go to the police or anything while her memory wastes away. Granted she put little effort, but she called the prosecutor instead of my lawyer. Another one is Tiarnan Quinn (or for the sake of this article, T-Bag), one of the laziest pieces-of-shit alive, a spoilt-senseless brat. I met T-Bag at swimming lessons way-ago. He’s an example of why I’ve never been out with my friends much on my legal nightmare that’s strangulating me to death. Last Saturday, I was calling him to see what’s up, how he’s been. You know, what friends do. Midway into the beginning of our conversation, that scummy little fuckbag hung up on me. Just suddenly. I called him back a few times, only to be hung up on over and over again. Finally, he talked. But all he said was: “I’m not a lawyer, I can’t help you.” And hung up on me.

First of all, what the fuck is he talking about? What the fuck’s wrong with this asshole? My call had nothing to do with my legal shit. I was calling him to see how he was, to catch up on the five year gap of time between us, to know what’s been going on with him for the last five mother fucking years.

Granted I’ve asked his dad before to for some help in finding me someone who’d be willing or able to defend me, much to no avail (though this guy also suggested I’d try Legal Aid . . . to sue Legal Aid, and repeated himself despite me repeating myself that I’m trying to sue Legal Aid), and that I’ve wanted to have T-Bag help me out somehow. Still, what the fuck!

Secondly, I’m honestly now convinced that my friendship with him has been a total sham. That I was merely his dad’s patient, and that I was some house-hold chore for Tiarnan and his brother to take care of, that they were only nice to be because they either feared me or something. The only thing me and he did was take me to the pool hall at the university they lived near, the lamest adventure I’ve ever done with them. Probably because their dad told them to. Nothing else epic happened afterward or before. I suppose this is why people are usually so nice to me.

Finally, he may not be a lawyer, but if I was trying to get some help from him, he should at-fucking-least help me in finding one. And even if they don’t know any personally, what pain and anguish is there in helping me do the research? You don’t leave a friend hanging like that when they’re going through serious rough times and ask for some kind of support from you. Equally important is you don’t fucking treat people like that, especially me.

And to think that T-Bag would care about his friends. Well, he doesn’t. He’s full of shit, a fraud, and an indifferent, lousy, cowardly spoiled brat. It’s as bad as being falsely accused by people who were your friends for a few years, like I was. I’m so glad I’m no longer friends with that brainless, misery-inducing failure. If this bothers him or upsets him or hurts his rep, good. Lets hope people learn from this. I mean, why is it that in the matters of justice and fairness, Canadians have this totally defeatist attitude? Even if the crime is minor, you don’t think that people should be entitled to decent council who’s level-headed and sane?

Then I got stuck up today by someone who was supposed to be doing a photoshoot with. And somehow, every time I call, it’s a bad time. I’m suspecting that she didn’t want to do any modeling  unless I’m proven wrong. If you don’t want to model for me, you don’t have to goddamn pretend to be interested.

Watch Your Language! Pt. 1

In virtually the same month, two stories dealing with foreigners and language have roused the semi-lukewarm interests of Canadians.

In Calgary, a woman/man/thing named Barrey Whiteley wrote an angry letter to the Calgary Herald newspaper about how she/he/it didn’t like other people speaking a language to each other that wasn’t in English. Here’s the insane rambling in its entirety (WARNING: some brain cells might die):

Being patriotic labels you a racist. I was at Westbrook Mall waiting for a dentist appointment in the food court area. Three obviously almost deaf Italian-or Spanish-speaking men were speaking their native language loudly. I walked up and asked if they were Canadian citizens. They all said yes (in English).

I then asked them if they could please speak English. They asked me why. I said being a Canadian means speaking English or French; Canada is bilingual only.

They shrugged their shoulders.

I went back to my coffee. Not 10 seconds later, they started speaking their language again. I got up and yelled, “You want to speak your language, go back to your country.” Two security guards approached me and said these men come there almost every day, and they can speak whatever language they want.

I yelled at them, “You are obviously immigrants that don’t remember why you came to Canada; to start a new life, you two did.” They then asked me to leave. I said phone the cops, I have a dentist appointment. I then went to my appointment.

It’s almost illegal to be patriotic. Canada needs language police. Go figure, eh?

Barry Whiteley, Calgary

Where to start? There’s a million different things wrong with Barry’s letter.

Let’s go over this line-per-line, shall we?

Being patriotic labels you a racist.

First of all, no it doesn’t. Saying or doing racist or ignorant things about or towards another person or judging them solely on their ethnic or racial looks or colour labels you as racist because it is racist. Barry, this . . . person (girl or guy or thing) is fucking fundamentally stupid, and has no idea what patriotism even is. He/she/it is using patriotism as a pathetic excuse to hide his/her/its paranoid xenophobic delusions.

I was at Westbrook Mall waiting for a dentist appointment in the food court area. Three obviously almost deaf Italian-or Spanish-speaking men were speaking their native language loudly. I walked up and asked if they were Canadian citizens. They all said yes (in English).

How were they “obviously deaf” when they all heard you? Clearly you’re blind. And why’s it her/his/its business if they were Canadian citizens or not? Was it really the language that was at fault, or was it in fact the loud talking? Even if they were talking loudly, so what? What if it was already loud in the food court? By other people or by music? IT’S A FUCKING MALL!!! And wasn’t she/he/it waiting for the dentist. Don’t they have waiting rooms?!

(Personally, I’m sick of people speaking in their native language softly, quietly, or when they don’t use it when they’re speaking to each other even though both speak the same language. They don’t have to be loud, but to do it softly . . . it’s like as if they’re ashamed of being themselves for some reason. Why? Because of people like this psychotic lady/lad/thing, that’s why! The occasional snoopy and OBVIOUSLY deranged asshole who is scared of anything alien to them!)

I then asked them if they could please speak English. They asked me why.”

First of all, yeah, lady. Why? What’s her/his/her business? She’s/he’s/it’s on her/his/its way elsewhere, and they’re talking to each other!

“I said being a Canadian means speaking English or French; Canada is bilingual only.

They shrugged their shoulders.

Because they all had one thing on their minds: What’s wrong with this stupid fucker? So what if Canada is bilingual? Even so, that’s only a requirement for the government to provide services in both French and English, because the majority of people speak English and French is the second-most spoken language in the country. Bilingualism isn’t mandatory, especially to allophones, to the privacy of your own home, or when you’re talking to people who speak the same language as you do.

“I went back to my coffee.”

Wait, I thought she/he/it was waiting for her/his/its dentist? Okay, now I’m calling bullshit on the whole dentist appointment thing. You don’t think that drinking coffee before even seeing your dentist would be a bad idea?

“Not 10 seconds later, they started speaking their language again. I got up and yelled, ‘You want to speak your language, go back to your country.’ Two security guards approached me and said these men come there almost every day, and they can speak whatever language they want.”

The security guards were right. These guys can speak whatever fucking language they want to each other, you xenophobic piece of shit! Why? Because that’s their right to. Immigrant or not. They’re engaged in a private conversation, and usually it’s the kind that is none of her/his/its fucking business. What’re they going to do? Blow up the Calgary Tower, which is something no one cares about anymore (Canada’s penis is really in Toronto)? And clearly you are fucking insane, because you’re yelling at a couple of non-whites, telling them to go back to their own country, because they’re not speaking English, as if they’re somehow going to let you in on their private conversation, or according to your demented mindset, their terrorist plot. That’s why security was called. You were causing problems for people and harassing them over absolutely nothing.

“I yelled at them, ‘You are obviously immigrants that don’t remember why you came to Canada; to start a new life, you two did.’ They then asked me to leave. I said phone the cops, I have a dentist appointment. I then went to my appointment.”

Again, you’re a stupid liar. They didn’t tell you they’re phoning the cops. They asked you to leave. And since they came here to start a new life, doesn’t that include something like freedom? The freedom to speak whatever language you fucking want? Go figure, eh? And now there’s only two guys? Wait, I thought there three of them!

“It’s almost illegal to be patriotic. Canada needs language police. Go figure, eh?”

You weren’t being patriotic. You didn’t respect their privacy, their right to speak whatever language they want, whether they’re Canadians or not. You’re a scoundrel using patriotism as his/her/its last refuge for delusional and paranoid xenophobia. And Canada doesn’t need a language police. What’re they going to do? Arrest people on the streets for not speaking English? Raid their houses and stores for allophone books and movies? Do we really need more victimless crimes on the books? Take up courts and police time, fill up the jails with people who don’t deserve to be there? And if you told a cop to arrest someone because they won’t speak English or French . . . you deserved to be laughed at.

And how’s it coincidental that he’s got the last name “White-ley”?

All-in-all, this guy is definitely blatantly stupid, bigoted, and xenophobic who doesn’t respect other people’s privacy or their right to free speech. The kind of asshole who visits other people’s countries and expects them to speak English to him, yet yells at people for not speaking his language in his country when he’s back home? Imagine this happening to him in, say, France? Or Germany? I can imagine him being terrified when a German screams in his face: “Why don’t you speak German? Speak German or go back to where you came from!” Or if the French scolded him to his face: “Speak to me a civilized language, you deaf American bastard!” He’ll be called American because we sound like them. Insult to injury!

AM I A PREDATOR?! 0_O

Well, according to this extortion website, somehow I am.

Somehow, sometime ago, someone pulled off something similar to the situation that I was thrown into about five years ago: they pasted my face, my email, and other bits of personal information onto a website called predatorswatch.com, a place that deliberately holds people’s reputation (and lives) for ransom, extorting them under the false promise of removing the information about them in exchange for cash. I say “false promise” because it’s most likely they WON’T delete the information posted on there.

And this is information that can be posted by literally ANYONE, even if they’re asylum patients let on the loose.

This is an evil website established by evil people, and it’s TERRIBLE for people who not only have been wrongfully arrested, wrongfully accused and wrongfully convicted, but who suffer from a record. Can you imagine the kinds of people out there (we all know who they are), who are literally so stupid or so deranged or both, that would actually fall for this, who actually would not only believe that some poor schmuck, who probably doesn’t realize it, is a predator online, but would act out whatever violent outrage they might course through their veins. The site never even specifies exactly what kind of predator they are. Hell, if you do your research, you’ll discover that there’s people who are put on sex offender lists for something as minor as public urination, or as accidental as being naked inside your house with one of the windows opened.

Now, I’ve known this for a while when I first discovered it, but I thought it wasn’t something to worry about until recently when it was brought to my attention again.

This is scary shit. O-O

UPDATE: I recently found out, through a friend of mine, that these guys were in fact shut down by the FBI twice, and that they’re not located anywhere in North America. Anonymous, if you’re out there and listening, it’s time to put these assholes out of business for good!

People Causing Problems for No Reason #4

I seriously hate these kinds of people.

Not too long ago, I was on the streetcar going east to Humber, and I was taking some shots of the street from outside. Then when there wasn’t anything worth photographing, I noticed this utterly unphotogenic bitch chatting with the TTC workers about me, me photographing things, and this city bylaw. We got into an altercation and, of course, this being a first, threatens to call the police on me. This authoritarian bitch, uglier than the scum in my shitter, with both eyes lined in eyeliner in a sad attempt to make her ugly ass prettier, then pulls out her cellphone when I kept telling her, in more ways than one, that I was photographing shit outside the streetcar. So I had to get off, since I don’t want to deal with that kind of shit. No police, thankfully. Shit-talking scumbag whore.

These people . . . seriously, what person would get into an utter fuss over someone taking photos, and of things OUTSIDE the fucking streetcar? I wasn’t photographing her, because she’s so fucking unworthy of it and uninteresting to look at. She’s not being a good citizen. She’s being paranoid and extreme for nothing. And even if I was taking photos in the streetcar, they wouldn’t be of her ugly, scummy ass. I’m in a public place, photographing whoever I please and wherever. Street photography and murder are two completely different things. What is she, the neighborhood watch, since they’re groups of paranoid fucks uglier than the scum in my shitter? Even if she wasn’t, she’s no different from them.

Leave photographers alone, assholes. Jeez!