Sieg Heil Bitch!

After nearly 11 long, arduous years of miserable hell toiling under ignorant, spastic, half-wit, morons my time has finally come. I am moving into the ranks of the aforementioned retards. I can finally forget everything I've learned and act like a complete fucking nit-wit.

Yes kiddies, I'm going to be a Project Manager.

I get to be the one that's loathed by all of my underlings, yep you read it right, I will finally have underlings to do my bidding. Like some evil, ignorant overlord I will have minions, not many at first, but minions nevertheless. Ah yes, supplicant and subservient to me. In my servitude as it were.

My plans for world domination are coming along nicely. Soon I will have legions of e-tards listening to my music, gorging themselves on the subliminal messages I have carefully placed in my tracks and my staff at my new job will be my generals in the onslaught that is inevitable.

Bow down before your lord and master.

The Reverend.

My Kingdom for a control surface.

I will be accepting donations to be put towards purchasing a control surface. Consider it an investment. If you give me money I'll give you a mention in the liner notes when I get one of these tracks released. After listening to track after track by other artists, I've come to the conclusion that one of the major limiting factors in the mastering process is my current inability to properly automate volume fades and filters (yes Cory I'm aware that I still can't properly structure a track). Structural defects aside, being able to automate certain parameters would add a great deal of dynamic feel to my tracks, and being able to hear in your head what you want it to sound like and not being able to realize that sound is might frustrating to say the least.

Every day I'm getting a little closer to realizing my dream and technical and monetary limitations are just silly, really someone should just donate a complete studio for my private use.

Mr. Van Dyk are you listening?

Farginpoopenshitten

FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.

I need a new computer.

Just when I hit my stride as an electronica producer, my computer decides that it's a blue-haired, bed-shitting, abacus. Really, I think I could almost do better with an abacus.

This fucking boat anchor is barely two years old, even dogs don't age as fast as technology (and before you try to compare the two, how many trance artists do you know that are dogs). The ram isn't the problem, nor is the video which is more than sufficient, it's the godforsaken CPU which, just for shits and giggles, the manufacturers change the pin configuration every couple of years so you have to buy everything new. The only major piece of hardware I can retain is the hard drives, everything else has to go. So now I'm left with a really fuckin' expensive toaster.

Jesus fucking Christ on a pogo stick, this does not please me. I'm on the verge of having a track worthy of sending to labels and this happens.

I swear god has a vendetta against me.

Winds of Change

I've recently returned from a brief foray back to my old stomping grounds. I was tasked to help our Edmonton office get through some of their backlog in light of some recent flood activity in the region.

Every time I find myself driving into the south of E-town it's like a homecoming. All of the stress and anxiety just melts away and I'm left with the feeling that all is well and good in the world.

This time was no exception. I had the pleasure of accompanying 3 people that had never experienced the beauty of the city and it was refreshing to see the city through their eyes. During the trip from Calgary I tried to explain some of the many differences between the two cities, though closely related in size of population, in my experience that is where the similarities end.

Of particular note is the people, or more precisely their respective attitudes. I've always found Edmonton to be more of a blue-collar sort of city and Calgary, well, it's just full of pretentious assholes, yearning for status and the all-mighty dollar. Living in Cowtown (that label works on so many levels as most people here are full of bullshit) I miss having a beer with my good friends, people that understand and accept me for who I am and care nothing for my position nor what I drive.

Having extolled the virtues of the city and its citizens I was pleased to find that the Edmonton staff are exactly the people that I like to work with. They share the same sense of humour as I do and treat each other with equal parts respect and playful condescension as my friends and I do with each other. The staff I brought from Calgary couldn't believe it was possible to have this much fun and still get a ton of work done in a day.

Of particular note is the fact that the Calgary staff felt it necessary to point out quite regularly that I am a completely different person in Edmonton versus Calgary. In Edmonton I'm apparently quite relaxed and jovial, not the bitter raging asshole that I am here. In my defense all I can say is that's what life can do to you when you're stuck in a festering cesspool with few friends and stuck in a shitty job.

Leaving today was for me bittersweet. For the first time in ages I actually had fun doing this craptacular job. I was tired from the work, but in a good way. I had a feeling of accomplishment, and the kudos from the people I worked with felt good as well. On the other hand I was looking forward to enjoying a frosty beverage in the confines of my abode, and sleeping in my own bed. I just wish that my residence was situated in Edmonton and not Calgary.

I leave you with an uncharacteristic hope that I can soon return to the warm embrace of the city I love. A city that accepted me as one of its own although I wasn't born there.

I can't wait to go home.

Going Postal

Ah, Cory's hallowed day has nearly arrived. The day that I finally fucking snap and slit some useless fuckwad's throat. It nearly happened yesterday.

Let us rewind and review the proceedings.

All was fine and shitty in my world as it usually is and I was in one of my typical condescending prick sort of moods (go figure). I was enroute to speak to a collegue regarding obtaining an address pertaining to a job that required my unique abilities. A certain useless, fat, douchebag manager of another division in the office I work in happened to pass me and thought it pertinent to bark an order for me to help him in some fashion or other. Without missing a beat nor looking at him, I proceeded to disrespect him in front of his perceived subordinates. Now before you judge me, know that said (mis)manager often feels it necessary to disrespect me and my colleagues on a regular basis and shockingly, expects no backlash. Me being who I am, said exactly two words to the aforementioned ass-kissing, cock-smoking, fuckwad.

Those two words were "Bite me".

Those of you that have experienced me when I'm in that sort of mood can envision the condescension that drips from my lips as I speak. At that point two of my coworkers that were witness to the event proceeded to laugh uproariously, which I think may have contributed to the ensuing near melee.

It took the dipshit a FULL 5 minutes to come back and retort. At which point he invaded my personal space (a big no-no) with breath that smelled as if he had just eaten the asshole out of a week old dead moose. I must admit the smell threw me off of my game briefly and if you kiss ass the way he does I guess ingesting a certain amount of feces is inevitable.

With a face as red as a cherry tomato, he proceeded to chastise me on the etiquette of respecting his authority in front of others and then thought it pertinent to threaten me with bodily harm.

By this time my ire was reaching epic proportions, mainly due to the foul odor emanating from his never closing word-hole. I reminded him of the fact that respect is earned not given and he stormed off, most likely to make someone else's life a miserable hell.

Normally I am not a violent person. This is due to many factors, primarily the fact that I do not wish to spend time in prison. When I gathered my wits after recovering from the violent chemical-biological attack on my person that is his breath I decided that now was the time for his life force to be extinguished. Fortunately for me he wasn't in the vicinity when I attempted to trace the route that I thought he might have taken through the shop, so at that point I decided to leave and attend to the business at hand.

An amusing anecdote to the above tale is the fact that he was yelling at me at the time and apparently I spoke in calm, even tones, so most people only heard him blowing a gasket. Now he looks like a clown (more so than he did before) and the fact that I walked away makes me look like a champion.

So in conclusion, be a condescending prick to all of the useless fuckwits you encounter and keep your composure as I almost did and you will look like a superstar. I say as I almost did because apparently the look on my face as I left the shop was something akin to what people expect Satan to look like manifest here on earth.

P.S. Cory, have no worries, the day will come and with the prevalence of camera phones I'm sure the resulting carnage will make it's way to the internet for you to peruse at your leisure.