The Least Windiest City in Canada

kelowna, BC

it has an average wind of 5.4 km an hour. this is where i intend to live one day.

what is calgary the best for?

the sunniest winter in canada: average 366.2 hours of sun. even though that sun can sometimes be while its minus 20 degrees.

calgary also has most sunniest days year round, most sunny days in cold months.

victoria, BC has the lowest snowfall

medicine hat is the sunniest year round

prince rupert was the rainiest place in the country to live.

i hate wind.

farewell

Obligatory random philosophy thoughts

I started writing out this school of philosophy called "adjectivism". The name I chose had absolutely nothing to do with the adjectivism found on the many results on google, and in fact, was a pointless school of thought that I was playing with for one reason only: it had everything to do with language. I wanted to use language as a basis for an entire school of thought, because language is after all one of our defining features. Unfortunately I lost interest in it, but today I was randomly reading some existentialist stuff (just Albert Camus, and no, not L'etranger (the outsider)) and it hit me that I can simply use adjectivism as a little mini-theory in the greater whole of the works.

What I was writing today was completely related to cyclical reality; a term I use to describe the truth that everything returns to its place, and everything is connected. This is not new. At all. What I was interested in was applying Camus's idea of the Absurd to the cyclical view of the world. He says that the absurd becomes apparent at any point of a persons life, and can be triggered by a random event. I know exactly when mine happened, and it's a shockingly stupid story. I was watching a Sugar Ray music video (I'm so sorry) and there was one line that went "my mother god rest her soul". After hearing that line I became, for the first time, aware of the mortality of my parents, and through that I had a horrible realization myself: I was going to die at some point. I was thirteen years old so this thought was quite a shock. Everyone says and sort of knows that they're going to die, but for some reason I went into a blind terror that lasted about a day. I couldn't eat and I couldn't sleep and everytime that fucking sugar ray song came on I freaked out and couldn't hear it anymore. It was like that earlier short essay I wrote; I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff. That was my first experience with the absurd.

Anyway.

The absurd, in the philosophy I've been working on, is the arrows that connect the elements of a cycle, or the borders on a map, or the lines on a chart. Like a particle of matter you can continue breaking things down until, like atoms, you're left with "The God Particle". This hasn't been discovered yet, but apparently we're close to finding it. So the way I want to formulate this philosophy is in direct relation to particle physics and will revolve around dissecting each segment of an absurd thought down to it's components so the true nature of emotion and thought can be analyzed, or at least in my own head. I can't say if what I'm writing or thinking will do anything for anyone else, but self analyzing is incredibly fascinating to me.

And I came up with the name "psychological Divisionism" after the artistic movement Divisionism. More on this later.

Thinks I learned from retail, ie conversion rates and pimpin ho's

Retail is really stupid. You're payed to be a middle-man, essentially. But I don't give a shit because it's easy, and I don't have to do any bending or lifting or running or hammering or kick-pressing or steel tempering. Or even sod laying. So right off the bat I prefer retail to every other single job I've had.

But customers are the problem. With the exclusion of the rare friend who visits me at work I think the people who shop at HMV may be a separate species... possibly half person half anteater. Or perhaps part armadillo. There are really very few people who come into the store that you cant categorize as one of the following:

Emo kid
This is such an easy one. Emo kids and record stores go together like emo kids and a human sized blender, or in simpler terms, completely fucking naturally. We allow loitering, and anyone who's met an emo kid knows that loitering is the national sport of the emo nation. Having bangs fucking with your depth perception may also be a factor, and loitering will eliminate any chance of bumping into something, or accomplishing something in their worthless lives. The term emo kid encompasses emos from age 12-50. Emos. Gross.

Stupid bitch with a stroller
First of all, lose some weight. Second of all fucking ziploc your kid, or better yet, wear a condom. Strollers are like parade floats, gigantic, annoying when you're trying to get somewhere fast, and are a massive magnet for pedophiles. One woman with a stroller blocking one isle pisses off at least 20 people who would have bought something. As my first manager at HMV once said "if these stupid chicks with babies fuck up my sales one more time I'm going to nerf gun their babies back into their baby-holes".

Person who has apparently never shopped before
Detecting one of these is easy. They will walk up to you and say

• Can you look things up? Like to see if you have them?
• Do you have a gospel section?
• Where are your DVD's?
• Anything that could start a conversation, ie their kids, pets, diseases

Occasionally they won't say anything, but they will pay in exact change. Let me break something down real simple for all the readers of this blog. Cashiers are 200-100000 times faster at counting change than you will ever fucking be. I don't like to toot my own horn (that's a lie) but I can count change faster than most people realize they even need any. And so can anyone who's worked cash for more than 6 months. Counting your pennies is not saving me time. It's making me furious. So furious that I'm going to do what I usually do when that happens, and mark your receipt as non-refundable. And then kill your family and burn your house down. Exact change is for chumps.



The next category I will treat with care because I have serious issues with people who discriminate against the group I'm about to talk about, but it's a problem nonetheless.

Handicapped people, specifically the people who are either their relatives or caregivers.
I write about some offensive stuff that can be seen as sexist or racist, but you will never read a sentence that bashes people with disabilities. People who pick on the disabled (CARLOS MENCIA) aren't worth anyones time, and should be ignored. The problem arises when irresponsible family members think that we have enough staff to accommodate their relatives or friend's special needs. We simply cant. During Christmas we had to close transactions on a till because we're not allowed to say "no" to a sales related request. If someone wants to listen to 10000 CD's, and they happen to be disabled and are unable, due to their condition, to see that it's busy and a lot of people will be inconvenienced, that's everyones tough luck. During the day in question, because of one person and his caretaker, lineup time was just under an hour. AN HOUR. TO BUY A CD. It just doesn't work. We're kind people at HMV (another lie, with the exclusion of the incredibly cheerful Jordan Hunter), but when the same kid comes in every week causing massive, MASSIVE delays because his sister wont monitor him, you'll understand if we get a bit frustrated with the system. I guess the solution is to have more people working, but that just doesn't seem possible in the job market we're in. So it has to be said. And HMV wont shell out for more people even if there were people to be had. Damn limeys.

Last but not least: scavenger hunters.
This isn't a cute term. Every weekend there are literally dozens of kids whose parents think a nice mall scavenger hunt will keep their kids occupied. We don't babysit. And 1000 kids running in the store and not buying shit throws off our sales figures (conversion: sales/number of customers that day). When our conversion drops our manager gets gangraped by the HMV VP's. If you're so uncreative that you have to send your kids to the mall, the place that every kid spends grade 7-11, then you should have your kids taken away. I guess it all goes back to how shitty playgrounds are now. So fuck you city of Calgary, get rid of these metal playgrounds and put the wooden ones back so smelly dirty children will stay the fuck out of my hair on a busy saturday. Seriously. Go to laser quest you little pussies.

Thank you. I'm sure there will be complaints on this one, please direct them to comments so we can do what we normally do which is not very much.

Trapped on a desert island - New school bitches

Since before society, when man had just discovered the magic of islands, the question was posed: what the fuck are we gonna do once all the motherfucking boats be sunk? The answers given to that question are both fascinating, boring, completely unrealistic, and lets be honest, not as cool as the answers I'm about to give you. Why are my answers better? Because my first name is Graham and my last name is Krenz and that's all you need to know. Jerk.

Here's what you need to bring to a desert island:

A fleshlight.
Ya. A fake vag. You're on an island, in case you weren't listening. You're surrounded by water, and the only thing you're going to be banging otherwise is a coconut or a dolphin. Now, I may be speaking from experience when I tell you that coconuts are terrible to make love to (not to mention a laxative) but can you imagine nailing a dolphin? They kill sharks. Because they feel like it. Try sticking your sea cucumber in one of those pelagic bitches. So really, your only choice is a fleshlight.

A subscription to National Geographic.
If any bunch of people know things about things, its the people who know things about things who work for national geographic. They strand themselves routinely on islands for fun, much in the same way dolphins take spearing penalties to beat the shit out of sharkfish, which pretty much makes them the authority on surviving island shenanigans. How you will get this delivered to your island is up to you, I'm not a scientist, or a deliveryologist. Maybe you can train jellyfish to bring them to you. Stop being so demanding.

A shitload of weed.
An island. A tropical island. You're already in a reggae video, minus the hot bitches with weird hair and huge asses, so you might as well be stoned for the entire 30 year duration. You can even use a dead dolphin as a bong if you pack the blowhole just right (after you've had sex with it, of course)

A pogo stick.
Spear fishing would be made a lot easier if you could strap a pointy thing to the bottom of the pogo and bounce about in a murderous and I'm sure hungry (and I'm even more sure horny) state of rage. Those little swimming bastards wont know what hit them until you crush their skulls with a battle cry of "WHEEEEEEEEE!". Lets face it, fish are assholes. You'll have no trouble killing as many fish as you have to if your conscience is as wrecked as mine is (due to Nelly Furtado's shift from pretty Canadian princess to Timbalands blowjob-monkey) and they're high in protein to boot.

That's all you need! And for added fun, get stoned, tie the fleshlight to the pogo stick, and bounce around getting off to the tribal ladies in national geographic. You'll forget you're on an island at all!