Rarely do I find something this simple so incredibly handy: I have just discovered Crayola Window Writers. These are markers that write on glass, and can be erased easily with water or glass cleaner. My friend's two year old uses them, but I never thought to use them myself until I was offered a free sample at the recent Teachers' Convention. As I picked mine up, a colleague mentioned that they also write on mirrors. I leave mine on the bathroom counter, and before I go to bed, I write any reminders for the next day on the glass. Then, when I wake up, groggy and disoriented, my first look in the mirror snaps me to attention for the day's agenda. It's saved my butt twice already.

A friend introduced me to Michael Bublé's music tonight. Michael is a Canadian singer with three CDs of other people's music. I am usually supportive of new Canadian artists, but I have to put my foot down on this one.

Far from adding to the pool of artistic diversity, Bublé merely reproduces the golden oldies, a la Harry Connick Jr., despite his web site's insistence to the contrary. The waste of energy and resources in rehashing these songs again in an industry already clogged with facsimiles frustrates me. You like these tunes? Go buy Sinatra. It sounds exactly the same, it's cheaper, and it's the real thing.

There are literally hundreds of unique, talented, Canadian musicians out there who are struggling for financial support and publicity. Record companies are either too lazy to find and develop these musicians, or they fear the uncertainty of the return on investment. It's far easier to recycle the proven business plan: repackage an existing genre with a different face and market the shit out of it. Gross.

Don't get me wrong; Bublé seems nice, and has a nice voice, but it's been done. If I went out and painted a perfect replica of the Mona Lisa, former Prime Minister Brian Mulroney wouldn't ask me to display it at his daughter's wedding (where he invited Bublé to perform). So why do we reward musical impersonation when we punish this tendency in the other arts? How many Celine Dions does one world need?

Last month I mentioned how upset I was about Blockbuster Video's so-called "end of late fees" campaign. So imagine my glee when I heard CBC's Stuart McLean going off on a rant about the policy, mentioning that New Jersey is even starting a fraud suit against the company. Even if the suit is unsuccessful, at least the media attention might help consumers realize the level of contempt Blockbuster feels for its customers.

I've just found my new favourite thing: Apple iTunes software. And no, I don't own an Apple computer (yet). Neither do I own an iPod, which makes iTunes useless as a music transfer mechanism for my aging MP3 player (the famous and foreign MPIO DMG which I imported from Korea in 2002 for over $400). However, there is still good reason for users everywhere to download iTunes: the free radio stations!

In particular, iTunes offers three reasonably good 24-hour comedy stations, which is exactly what I have not been able to find on any other streaming radio players. Now I can listen to a variety of comedy whenever I want, as background when I'm cooking, cleaning (or not), or otherwise in need of auditory entertainment. And once I get my AirportExpress, I'll be able to listen to it through my living room stereo, leaving my computer in the office. Sweeeeet.

So I'm taking Kung Fu classes. Seriously. And in preparation for a tournament we're hosting at the end of the month, we put mats on the floor tonight and practiced tumbling.

Ed's Note: He's not actually participating in the tournament, as he will be conveniently out of town.

It seemed somehow ridiculous to be a grown man doing forward and backward sommersaults on a big wad of blue mats. But I quickly realized how long it had been since I had made any contact with the ground at all, and just how separated our bodies (and perhaps our minds?) are from the earth. It felt good. Really, really good. So today's advice: go fall down some.