(A Random Post)

Of Lucky Condoms

The Pilgriming Vine – Basia Bulat

It appears that I’ve lost my lucky condom. My theory is that it fell out of my pocket while I was reaching in to grab something else and really, it’s surprising that this didn’t happen before. I’ve had this condom for about three or four years by my count as I recall receiving it after a concert (the exact performer escapes me). 102.1 The Edge was handing them out for free and they had their own packaging and everything. Considering the rate at which the average male goes through these things, I have to think that it’s somewhat of a collector’s item at this point.

I hope to get a replacement soon as it’s been missing for a few days now and I’ve been living in nothing short of constant fear. And yes, I realize the inherent contradiction that a “lucky condom” creates (if I’ve had it this long, it clearly can’t be that lucky, wah wah wah). People have always been skeptical in regards to the condom’s ability to ward off the forces of evil to which I respond, I’m still here, aren’t I?


Today’s track is brought to you by Canadian artist Basia Bulat. Normally I wouldn’t address it, but in addition to the fact that the song itself is absolutely breathtaking, there are a couple of stories tied to it.

Firstly, my discovery of the song was purely serendipitous. I had fallen asleep on my couch one night (not on purpose) and awoke at around 1 or 2 in the morning. Still too lazy to head up to bed, I decided to flip around and catch some sports highlights or (fingers crossed) a showing of A Few Good Men. I ended up landing on MuchMoreMusic and caught the end of Ms. Bulat’s video for The Pilgriming Vine. It’s funny because it was the video that intrigued me at first, one of those single shot deals that always get wannabe filmmakers like myself salivating. The only part of the song that I caught was the last 45 seconds or so, which is purely instrumental. Still, it left an impression on me and I made a mental note to track down this song later. It’s a lush, waltzy number that totally fits into the folk-y mood that I’ve been in for the better part of this year.

Secondly, Shirley really loved it. If she ends up buying the CD, I think Ms. Bulat owes me some thanks because I gave it the hard sell. A few birthdays ago, Angel got me this kickass pair of headphones. The only problem is that they’re quite cumbersome and you obviously can’t share music with people when you’re using them, but other than that they’re perfect for immersing yourself in music. I use them in my room late at night so I can shatter my eardrums without waking up my parents. In this case, I simply told Shirley to sit down, put the headphones on and listen. Like I said, the song is particularly rich so I figured that these sound cancelling headphones would make for the perfect first-listen experience. I think it gave her the chills, so mission accomplished.


There’s a nigga in the White House!


Now that I’ve uttered aloud what we (or at least everyone South of the Mississippi) were all thinking, allow me to share a few other thoughts. I’m not politically inclined either way, but I do wish that certain artists had considered the influence they wield in today’s society before making their voices heard. Have I mentioned that Will Forte is God?

I do have to say that all of this unbridled optimism disturbs me and not because I’m some rampant cynic. Rather, due to Mr. Obama being black, handsome and “not-a-Bush” they’ve decided to overlook the fact that he’s still a politician. He still has to play by a certain set of rules and he will undoubtedly make mistakes and all of that is before we even get to the skeletons that are waiting to be unearthed from his closet. I, for one, miss the days when he was just an ambitious black man with a dream, but as I have been reminded over the last few weeks, the man was a presidential candidate and not a band you used to like.

All of that isn’t even touching on the fact that a black man in the White House is surely one of the signs of the apocalypse and thus, zombies. Do you have a zombie plan? (1 and 2)


I’m posting the trailer for Valkyrie to officially open it up for approval by the WAMBAG.com board. It looks great and stars a shit-load of good actors, but I’m sorry to say: No German accents.


My birthday was more of a birthweek, truth be told. It started last Monday when Michelle treated me to dinner and a movie…well, movie and a dinner…well, movie and a popcorn combo that left us too full to eat a proper dinner…you know what I mean. We went to see Ghost Town, which I absolutely loved. I’ve been gushing about it, but I should add the disclaimer that one of the reasons I enjoyed it so much is because Michelle was clearly enjoying it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a funny movie, but now I have this super-positive association with it. Also, Ricky Gervais continues to be a master of martini dry comedy mixed with genuine sentiment (one of the underrated aspects of Arrested Development in my opinion).

The next day I had lunch with Angel who had forgotten it was my birthday and honestly, we’d made plans to meet a week before and I didn’t even think about it myself. She even let me pay for lunch, which she definitely would not have if she knew it was my birthday, but would be justified anyway as I will explain later. Angel remembered that my birthday was sometime this month and when she asked me for the exact day, I just deflected the question. Later, by rummaging through some e-mails, she apparently discovered the date and called me that night.

Fuck you! Happy birthday, you asshole!

I only wish you could hear the emotion with which that was said, but alas, it shall remain mine and mine alone. Now, in both our defenses, the only reason she forgot is because I didn’t tell her and the only reason I decided to pay for our meal that day is because we also went out the week of her birthday a couple of months ago and she paid for dinner that night. In brief, we both treated each other to birthday meals, just on our own birthdays. We’ve always been unorthodox in our methods and I don’t see why we should handle such a trivial ritual any differently.

Am I forgiven, Angel?


Proof that “being a stupid asshole” is not unique to the Americas. This reminds me of those guys who wanted Peter Jackson to change the name of the second Lord Of The Rings film after the 9/11 attacks.


The cherry on the top of my birthday sundae was the gift that I received on Friday night. Some of my softball teammates had conspired to create something that would be…timeless. Something I could pass down to my children that would subsequently be passed on from generation to generation. They framed Caesar’s jersey from our Big Black Hawks days, signed it and packaged it with a couple of photos of Caesar including a bona-fide Topps trading card. Upon unwrapping it, I nearly wept. To have such a unique piece of sports memorabilia, literally one of a kind, is a privilege that few, especially myself, can be considered worthy of. Nevertheless, I shall hang it in my house and it will forever stand as a banner of honour and excellence.

(No homo.)


For those of you who have made it to the end of this post, my deepest thanks to you. Do not think that your long, arduous trek shall go unrewarded. I present you with not one, not two, but three, THREE! Jean Claude Van Damme clips.

How the hell has THIS never been posted on the WAMBAG before? I want some answers Cheng!

A truly outstanding World of Warcraft commercial.

If I’d seen that commercial before, perhaps I wouldn’t have been as surprised to hear about the concept for JCVD. Who could have known that the Muscles From Brussels was capable of such grand irony? More evidence in the form of a short film to whet our appetites for the main, roundhouse-kicking course.

Now you shut up while I’m singing
About McCain’s thirst for dog blood
Like a vampire but with dogs



Destined to fight the world's evil, The WAMBAG endures massive battles involving impossible stunts, races on horse-pulled carriages, and the desecration of enchanting medieval castles (all done with dizzying computer graphics). Not only does the eye candy keep on coming, the tongue-in-cheek writing and deep Transylvanian accents perfect the film with a dose of dark humor.



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