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The Radio Play

Mar 11 2013

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This is my first radio play. It was written by a fan of the show who wishes to remain anonymous. It’s not one of the members of anonymous, though. I like radio plays. I always have. I particularly enjoy Wiretap and Getting On more recently. Sometimes I think I copy Urbaniak a little. But then I listen to shows I did before I listened to him and don’t think that’s the case. Perhaps he’ll just encourage me to leave in those pauses that I often delete.

Enjoy this.

Abaum’s VMH Radio Play Edition: S01E01 – In Capitalist Canada You Watch the Party
In Capitalist Canada You Watch The Party

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A Matter of Robotics

Aug 28 2012

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Can a robot which is aware of its own programming change its program?

If the robot is programmed by a person, then the person who built the robot determines whether the robot has permission to rewrite its own code.

If the robot is assigned write permission, it can change its programming.

If the robot has write permission, could the robot then remove a part of its programming associated with write permission?

Could this only happen if the robot was given authority to access its write permission programing?

Are we lords of our creation?

I’m off to smite my old hard-drive.

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S05E05 An Emotional Celebration

May 07 2012

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Here it is, folks. The one that you’ve been waiting for that doesn’t quite include everything you wanted. In this special episode, we deal with some troubling issues for myself, personal space in public, and the trials and tribulations of not owning a drum.

Featuring live recordings from around the world…China, Canada, Thailand



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A Poetic Preview

Apr 12 2012

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Drunk Douche in a Bar

Drunken, douchey
Sunken, sloshy
The great ogre slumps upon
the bar fake, heavy with granite
hands clutching smoke, drinks
the cause of his violence.

Drunken, angry
Swollen, flashy
The grave mother smoulders on
the tear, make-up heavy tonight
body feeding smoke, drinks
the child, she’s slave, silenced

Dank and, dreary
Sullen, chirpy
The ancient man, shuffles on
No tears, never sleepless the night,
from crying screams, drink
live. mould. Whole life missing

A Lifeless Hole
A Life Less Whole

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Travel Curse The Legend Continues

Mar 15 2012

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Mmmmmmmmmmm, here it is folks. 3 years in the making and every bit as old as it was when it was first recorded. This episode is guaranteed to make you shiver with excitement, cringe with fear and elate with joy¬†unforeseen. Unfortunately, the musical selections are pretty solid. I’ll get back on track soon.

I swear this is the last time you’ll hear about this one massage…but this is the real deal. We’re talking hours after it happened folks. Will it happen this time?



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Shit Palace

Dec 22 2011

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Sundae Discovery

Dec 10 2010

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When I first saw the large sundae sitting beneath the car seat, my first thought was, “That looks delicious!” This initial thought was followed by, “Why is there a sundae under my car seat?” The sundae was not melted, which was odd, considering it was one of the hottest days of the year. This led me to believe that it had been placed there recently. I carefully guided the sundae through the mini jungle gym that was the underside of the car seat. It was as if I was playing a game of operation. No sides touched. I put on my goggles and started eating. 

It was delicious! 
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The Burnt Chair Family

Dec 08 2010

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I came across this photo some time ago. I found it quite funny but also very intriguing.  Introducing the burnt chair family.

The father looks to be the only one that is happy about this family moment. The children look to be mostly apathetic and the one bald little guy on the right with the ripped pants seems to be unimpressed. As I looked closer at this photo I realized there may be something written in the ash on the back of the chair.

I took the photo into Photoshop and had my way with it, if you know what I mean. I did some inverting and highlighting and adjustments and all that fancy Photoshop stuff people do and at the time this was the best I could come up with. I may have added some letters for dramatic effect.

Yup, that’s what my huge brain came up with. These guys love to mix flame retardant resin and then use it to write  messages on things that they will burn. I’ve done something similar actually, but the inverse. Some friends and I poured some methyl hydrate on a sign so it would spell something out in fire. It didn’t work. 
Anyway, recently I revisited this photo and realized that it more than likely does not say, “WE LOVE TO MIX RESIN” but rather “WE LOVE YOU ROSE”. I have a feeling that this chair belonged to Rose, possibly a family member, who recently moved out. The father you see smiling in the photo hated Rose’s chair, but Rose refused to get rid of it. Once Rose left, the old man decided to get rid of it once and for all, but not without a little departing message for Rose. 
My dad did something similar with a couch I was storing in his garage. He couldn’t stand having it in his garage taking up space, but I refused to get rid of it because it was the greatest couch of all time. So soft and so comfortable. I really loved this couch. I went away for the summer and my dad threw it in the dump. It was one of the greatest losses of my life. As such, I wrote a letter to the company that made the couch to tell them my sob story in hopes that they might replace my couch or give me a significant discount. Here is the letter:

Urban Barn HeadOffice
1550 Brigantine Drive
Coquitlam, B.C. V3K 7C1
To Whom It May Concern:

Hello, my name is Richard Bergeron and I hope you can help me out. When I wasliving in British Columbia a couple years ago, I purchased an Urban Barn sofa.It was the Flip Sofa-Chaise and I absolutely loved it. I spent a number ofmonths searching for the perfect sofa for my place and this one was by far thebest. It was so incredibly comfortable; I used to fall asleep on it on aregular basis. The cushions were so soft and comfy and the sofa’s designprovided optimal comfort even with multiple people on the sofa. My friends andI used to fight over who would get to lay on the chaise portion during a movie.I also loved the way the sofa looked. It was so elegant, luxurious and stylish.I really did love this sofa.
Unfortunately, a cat did notfeel the same way about it and decided to use it as a scratching post. All fourcorners of the sofa became severely damaged as a result. After that, I was laidoff from my job and was forced to move back in with my parents for a while. Assuch, I stored my sofa in my dad’s garage. During this time, I found a new jobthat required me to travel to Manitoba for the summer, but sadly, I was unableto bring my sofa with me. Meanwhile, my dad was becoming irritated with havingto store my ripped up sofa in his garage because he needed the space for all ofhis hunting gear. So while I was away trying to make ends meet so I couldafford a place to once again house my beloved sofa, my dad decided to take mysofa to the dump. He just tossed the most amazing sofa ever into the trash! Icouldn’t believe it. I was heart broken to say the least. I truly do miss thatsofa.

So now here I am, a few months later, about to move into a new apartment inWinnipeg, Manitoba and what do you know, I need to buy a sofa. Not just anysofa though, a Flip Sofa-Chaise. I need this sofa. After owning such an amazingsofa no other sofa will compare. The problem is I cannot afford the high pricetag on your sofa. It is beyond my means. If there is anything you can do tohelp me towards once again being able to have the most amazing sofa in theworld, I would forever be in your debt.


Richard Bergeron

A Sofa Enthusiast

The Following is an excerpt from a book that Irecently read:
‘The sofa was perfect for sleeping. Not too soft,not too hard; even the cushions pillowed my head just right. I’ve slept on alot of sofas, and let me tell you, the comfortable ones are few and farbetween.
Typically, they’re cheap dead weight. I neverunderstand how people can be lax about choosing sofas.
I always say…you can tell a lot about a person’scharacter from his choice of sofa…. Procuring a good sofa … requires styleand experience and philosophy. It takes money, yes, but you also need a visionof the superior sofa.
That sofa among sofas.’

Haruki Murakami -Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World

A few weeks later, I received a call from the president of Urban Barn informing me that I was entitled to 10% off at all Urban Barn stores. I honestly did not expect to even hear from them. It was just something I thought would be fun to write. Unfortunately 10% was not nearly enough of a reduction considering my economic situation at the time, but I still do appreciate the offer they made. Thanks Urban Barn. Below is the only photo of my beloved sofa know to exist.
“The Greatest Sofa Of All Time”
I miss you.

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Help! I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up!

Nov 30 2010

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So the other day I was driving down the road in extra snowy Winnipeg after finishing a long overdue workout at the gym when I saw a bizarre and distressing scene on the side of the road. On a snowy trail running parallel to the road about 10 meters from the roads edge I saw one of those motorized scooters that elderly and disabled people use to get around. It was stopped on the trail. Beside the scooter there was an old man on his hands and knees in the snow with a young girl about 5 years old sitting in the snow beside him. Tied to the scooter was one of those little yappy scotty dogs and I could see it was barking. Here is a depiction of said scene:

My first instinct was to stop and see if everyone was ok as this scene did not seem right in my head and it was quite a cold day at -16 degrees Celsius with the wind chill. I was driving at about 60km/h in very icy conditions on a very busy road. The shoulder of the road where one might normally pull off out of traffic was virtually non existent due to a large snow bank. I decided it was too dangerous to suddenly stop on the side of the road so I drove ahead looking for a better location to pull off but there was none to be found. I continued driving and thought to myself “someone will help them if there really is a problem. Maybe the old dude was just playing in the snow with his grand daughter.”

After driving away I felt conflicted about my choice to not stop in the middle of the road to help. I still feel bad about not stopping. What do you guys think about this? Should I have risked it and stopped? Should I have turned around and gone back to see if the old fellow really was in distress? Let me know what you think.

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First Aid and Other Ponderings

Nov 28 2010

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I recently participated in a first aid and CPR course. I will now tell you about my experience.

When I first entered the classroom, I noticed that the majority of the leftover seats were sandwiched in between people that were already seated. I scanned the room for attractive females and there were few to be found. I took a seat at the back of the room in between an old grisseled man and a mildly attractive female. Approximately 5 minutes after seating myself, 3 attractive females entered the room. One of said attractive females
sat beside a dashing young indie styled fellow directly in front of me. During small breaks, the two would engage in conversation. He would go on to tell her he is an artist and likes to do volunteer work in his spare time. She would gush over such statements and flick her back and bat her lashes at him. He then went on to inform her that he had a wife that made much more money than himself. She said a few more words and then did not speak to him again for the remainder of the class. She even moved to a different seat after lunch. I guess she wanted him to bone her.

After lunch it was time to do choking baby scenarios. For all of you psychos out there, this is not when we choke babies, but rather when we save babies from choking. They lined us up against the wall as if we were about to be executed. Fortunately, they did not execute us. We were each to be handed a plastic, supposedly realistic, baby doll, but they were short on dolls. When I was handed my baby doll, I realized that it’s arms and legs did not move in a realistic fashion. They moved in a robotized style and did not have joints at the elbows or knees. I then proceeded to make my baby doll dance like a robot. After a short time, a fellow beside me who did not have a doll, abruptly asked,

“What’s the deal here?”

I replied, “oh, just checking out my babies robot dance moves”

The insecure humourless fellow then let out a short nervous laugh and proceeded to look at me like I was insane. I am insane, but I don’t appreciate looks that insinuate so. After striking the baby doll several times on the back and chest, I decided that my baby would most definitely be dead from said blows. I started wondering if I was in a baby killing training class. At one point, the instructor mentioned zombie babies, and that is when my suspicions were confirmed.

After learning zombie baby killing techniques, we sat back down and learned more first aid. The mildly attractive female that sat beside me had a flemmy sounding cough, which made her considerably less attractive. From time to time, I would be handed documents that needed to be passed along to the person beside me. Each time I would pass a document to the mildly attractive female she would say,

“mmmhmm yes, thank you very much”

I found this statement to be the mutterings of someone that is socially inept. She proved herself to be otherwise in a later conversation during a break. I did not interact with her to a high degree as I myself am socially inept. The rest of day one was fairly uneventful so I will skip to day two.

Day 2 was quite different from day 1 of the course. The attendance went from around 20 down to 3 because the majority of the class did not need to get the full standard first aid certification. I must say, the 3 of us were quite a mix-matched rag tag crew. There was an older Caucasian gentleman that had one of those holes in his neck so he could speak. I believe it is called a tracheotomy but I’m not entirely positive. He still smoked and would take his smoke breaks whenever he pleased. At one point the instructor said, “you know smoking is bad for you right?” I thought it was a funny joke. The smoking man did not. Then there was a middle aged African woman from Zimbabwe that came to Canada to flee political persecution because she was part of a human rights organization that was documenting the egregious human rights violations taking place in her country. Her name is Gertrude. Then there was me. One really awesome dude. I found Gertrudes story to be quite compelling so I will share it with you now.

One day in Zimbabwe while Gertrude was chilling at the human rights organization head quarters, she had received word that government officials or some nasty dudes were going to raid the headquarters in a very short time. Her coworkers told her that she had to leave the country or she may face death or life imprisonment in a really awful prison, but most likely death. Within a matter of a few hours, she was on a plane to the US and then rode a bus up to Canada. She had to leave behind her 3 children in Zimbabwe. She is now trying to bring her children to Canada, but does not have the money or resources to do so. I gave Gertrude a ride home at the end of the class. She is a nice lady. We almost crashed into a snow bank. Winnipeg roads are slippery.

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