As the official Island weblog repository for “memories of the 1970s and 1980s,” I feel an obligation to point out that Hinterland Who’s Who [QuickTime] is back. Music smoothed out; new announcer; same subject matter. Can’t put a good woodchuck down.

Which reminds me, speaking of the 1970s, does anyone else remember Hammy Hampster? This was a live-action animal show that aired, I think, on Global in the early days. Talking hampsters, with houses, boats, cars, etc. It was a magical little world.

By all rights, Peter Pan shouldn’t exist. 

Like its independent burger-focused restaurant brothers and sisters, it should have been rendered extinct by the fast food giants. I am convinced that Peter Pan survives because (a) the famous Peter Pan Burger Basket $1.99 commercial which, like Stompin’ Tom singing the 1-800 tourism number, drilled its way into the public’s mind and (b) because the only effective way to refer to the intersection of Rte. 1 and Rte. 2 by the Charlottetown Mall is as “the Peter Pan corner.”

They also make a good milkshake. And there’s that special relish.

Here’s a Peter Pan TV commercial than ran locally. Directed by my friend Dave Moses.

Self, please note that your aging body no longer has the capacity to effortlessly absorb a large-format Hershey Chocolate Bar with Almonds. Your head will twitter and your limbs shake. Please avoid this behaviour in future. Really.

I’m just off the phone with a colleague. I asked him if he was “chomping at the bit” for a piece of work he’s waiting on. I suddenly realized that, without being totally aware of it, I may pepper my day-to-day conversation with expressions like this, and may thus be suffering from some sort of Dan Rather-like perception in the conversation space. I believe I may have actually said “oh, go on…” to someone the other day. What’s happening to me?

Those crazy idiots are at it again: every year at this time a study comes out from the Canadian Alliance Against Software Theft (see this post from 2002 for last year’s version).

Every year they report that Prince Edward Island leads the country in software piracy and make us out to be a bunch of criminals.

And every year I point out that their “research” is so broken that to get accurate numbers for a place the size of Prince Edward Island is impossible and that, by releasing their numbers anyway, they are slandering all 137,000 of us.

Nonetheless, watch CBC or The Guardian this week or next and, dollars to donuts, you’ll see a story called something like “Piracy Study Shows Islanders Lead the Nation.”

I’m a software developer — I make my living from writing software. If anyone should be concerned about this issue it’s me. But I can’t, in any way, give credence to the work of these people, and consider it criminal that, year after year, they spread their lies.

Sigh.

Earlier in the month, I wrote about my old friend Stephen Badhwar, and idly wondered where life had taken him.

Today I decided to get to the bottom of things, and so with the help of Google, and a kind woman named Heather in Atlin, BC who gave me Stephen’s home telephone number, I just simply rang him up.

“Hello,” I said, “is Stephen there?”

“Peter Rukavina!,” said Stephen.

That’s why we need old friends, to remember the sound of our voice.

Stephen, I’m happy to report, is alive and well and living in Atlin as a writer / teacher / parole officer / ranger / actor / storyteller / gadabout. He sounds content, which is about all one can ask for.

The telephone… such an amazing invention.

Congratulations to Bruce Rainnie, brother of our CBC afternoon radio jock Matt, just named the new Roger Younker for the supper hour newscast on CBC Television in Prince Edward Island.

When Steven Garrity and I were up at the CBC a couple of weeks ago, we saw Bruce nervously pacing, and now we know why. Bruce is well-spoken, amiable, excellent on his feet, and will be, I think, a great newscaster. We’re lucky to have him.

This move reinforces the importance of moving other Rukavinas here ASAP, as we don’t want the fragile Rainnie - Rukavina balance to be thrown out of whack. A longterm goal of mine has been to concoct some sort of CBC Radio game show that is peopled entirely by CBC-related siblings — we Rukavinas, the Rainnies, the McKenna brothers, Karen Mair and her sister, Norm and Ian Macdonald, Peter Mansbridge and his brother Malachy (okay, I made that one up). I can see this plan coming together now.

Kudos to Sara Fraser for handling Compass duties in the post-Roger period; I hope she’ll be re-assigned to reportorial duties and stick with the Corp.

Actually, I didn’t go to school with Dave Hyndman, but, it seems, almost everyone else on PEI did. I think I’ve met a half a dozen people who have identified themselves as being “good friends with Dave from way back” in the last couple of months. They seem universally surprised that, through some tricky manoeuver, I also know Dave (although not well, and obviously not “from way back.”); it’s as though I’ve somehow cracked a code that I’m not, technically, supposed to have been able to have cracked.

I’m honoured. I think.

It’s made me realize that the bedrock upon which much of Island society is built is people [who went to school \| are cousins \| used to work \| once met at a party in Stanchel] with each other. I’m not lamenting this: I see it as the primary economic development advantage of Prince Edward Island.

To paraphrase Stewart Brand, “we are a Borg; we might as well get good at it.”

I just experienced the most effective sales job of my life: three kids from Birchwood Intermediate School came to the door to sell me a chocolate bar. They had a back and forth crazy patter that was completely and utterly compelling. After 35 seconds, I had no choice but to give them two dollars. Bravo!

Because I know that Johnny and Jodi will go to any dog-themed movie, no matter how bad it looks, I will limit my comment on Good Boy! to quoting the last paragraph of the description of the movie:

Owen learns that thousands of years ago, dogs from Sirius came to colonize and dominate Earth, but the dogs strayed from their original mission and have instead become “man’s best friend.” Hubble has been sent to investigate. Now Owen must help Hubble train a group of undisciplined neighborhood dogs to shape up for a visit from their leader, the powerful Greater Dane and the fate of all Earth dogs hangs in the balance.

I don’t know whether to marvel at the inventiveness, or stand in disbelief at the inanity.