I would be remiss if I didn't wish Sir John A. Macdonald, Canada's first prime minister and one of my personal favourites, a happy 191st birthday -- presumably by raising a tumbler of scotch in his honour.

Why is he a favourite?

Because of this story, which I desperately want to be true:

Sir John was out on the hustings one election, debating an opponent -- while drunk (consider him the Ralph Klein of his time).

Possibly as a result of being under the influence, Sir John puked on his lectern.

Without missing a beat, he roared (words to the effect of): "And that's what I think of my opponent's ideas!"

They don't make 'em like that any more! :)

He's buried in Kingston, his adopted home town (Sir John was born a Glaswegian and came to Canada at the age of five) in the Cataraqui cemetery just south of the 401.

I've been asked to list five offbeat things about myself.

I must ask myself why these people would think I would have any.

However, I will be a good sport, and will do so when my working day is through.

Update

The time has come. I will now play along.

1. I have never knowingly eaten liver as an adult (OK, not so weird).

2. My worst job ever was working in a pyrogy-manufacturing plant (is that the ultimate dead-end, high-school-era job for an Edmontonian of Ukrainian descent or what?)

3. I love snow bubbles and have more than 60 of them. If you ever go somewhere touristy and want to put a look of pure joy on my face when you get back, you know what to do with this information. Failing that, some other kitschy trinket or bauble will do.

4. My signature tantrum move (I'm told) is to wave my hands besides my head and yell, "what the fuckin' FUCK?!?!" (a line taken from a classic P.J. O'Rourke essay for Rolling Stone on the U.S. savings and loan crisis of the 1980s). If I'm extremely frustrated, I've been known to pretend to bang my head off a wall. If I'm finding someone's argument to be stupid or tedious beyond belief, the right side of my mouth invariably curls into a sneer. My friends are okay with these outbursts. I suspect the Frozen People find them appalling. Oh well.

5. I can sit through a Takashi Miike movie like Ichi The Killer without missing a beat, but Ultimate Fighting makes me want to puke ("Whatsamatter, man? Too real for you?" some subhuman in a horrible Scarborough bar once asked me while it was showing on the bar's TV. "Exactly!" was the answer in my mind).

If the following want to join the fun, that works for me:

Blamblog

JimBobby Sez

Patrick Byck

David Akin

Fine Young Journalist

Gourmands probably recognize New Orleans names like Antoine's, but how about Willie Mae's fried chicken? Both the outrageously expensive and the cheap neighborhood diners of the Nawlins food scene are at risk in hurricane Katrina's aftermath -- but especially places like Willie Mae's.

France's top court has told a man he can no longer keep the cryogenically frozen bodies of his parents stored in the cellar of his chateau.

An excerpt from the BBC story:

Remy Martinot's parents bodies have been stored in deep-freeze caskets in accordance with his father's hope that they may be revived in the future.

The court said the bodies must be moved because of public health concerns. 

Mr Martinot is considering appealing against the decision at the European Court of Human Rights, his lawyer says.

Remy Martinot's father, a doctor and a believer in the theory that cryogenically-frozen bodies can be brought back to life, died in 2002.

His body then joined that of his late wife, frozen in the family cellar since her death in 1984.

The doctor had been paying for the freezer where his wife's body was stored at minus 65C (minus 85F) by charging visitors to view it.